


Find My Way Back To You

by DeliriousMess



Category: Haven - Fandom, Haven RPF
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 132,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeliriousMess/pseuds/DeliriousMess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this is an AU where, sure Jennifer's died, but did she really? Dwight got a ding on her credit cards, and a friend says that someone who looks suspiciously like Jennifer has been seen around Boston. If it is Jennifer? Then why hadn't she come back to the Rouge? What could keep her from coming home? And why doesn't she seem to remember anything about Haven or the Barn? Fairly OC heavy, with mention to canon and to other characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Duke was back on the Rouge, getting ready to make good on his long standing promise to himself to get the hell out of Haven. Now that the whole Mara/End of All Times/Great Suffering situation had finally calmed down—and there was plenty of suffering—and the Personality-Formerly-Known-As-Audrey was back running the show with Nathan, he knew it was time. The Troubles were over, what more could he do?

Maybe he’d go somewhere sunny.

They had talked about that a few times; when they were hunting for some normalcy, for something to hang onto through the Troubled madness of Haven. “Somewhere Sunny;” where she could wear a bikini, and she could have a drink in a coconut which she said was something she always wanted to do, and they’d swim in the ocean and lounge on the beach all day, and forget about things like what day of the week it was and what was happening in a little Troubled town somewhere in Maine.

“ _You think I could get flowers to stay in my hair? Or, ooh, maybe I could put them in_ yours _!_ ”

Duke slammed the cooler he’d been carrying on to the deck. No. Not today. He’d been careful; everything she’d owned had been carefully put back in her room, and the door had been locked; he’d pushed as much of her down and away from the rest of the world, from _himself_ , as he could. It’d done enough to her, to _them_ , it didn’t deserve to do this to him too.

“Not today.” He mumbled, rubbing his face and still leaning on the cooler.

“Heading somewhere?” a familiar voice called from the pier.

Duke sighed as he stood and turned to see Dwight boarding the Rouge, part of him glad for the distraction, the rest of him immediately going on the defensive in case this was another one of those times where Haven was going to pull him back in and down until it smothered him. Duke paused as he looked at Dwight, feeling as if something was missing from the police chief when it dawned on him: the bulletproof vest.

It was still strange to see him without it.

Who knew that his shirts actually _continued_ under the thing?

Duke shrugged, throwing his arms up into it, “Not much to _stay_ for, ‘Squatch. Figured you would’ve left this town in your rearview _long_ before now.”

Dwight shrugged back, not nearly as emphatically, “Still work to be done. Now that my life doesn’t flash before my eyes every time a gun goes off, I can do a lot more for this town.”

Duke hazarded a smirk, “And the fact that ‘Chief Hendrickson’ has a certain _ring_ to it, has _nothing_ to do with it?”

“You said it, not me.” Dwight said, returning Duke’s careful smile with his own.

Duke nodded, “Good. They can use all the help they can get in this town, Troubled or not. _I_ , on the other hand, am going to get the _hell_ outta dodge while I can. This town has… _taken_ more than enough from me.”

Duke leveled his gaze at Dwight to be sure he understood his meaning as he continued, “I don’t owe it _anything_.”

“I never said you did.” Dwight replied, crossing his arms.

Duke let out a mirthless chuckle as he turned to the cooler he’d earlier slammed onto the deck. He pulled a beer out of it, letting the lid slam close, and opened the beer. He sat on the lid, gesturing towards Dwight with the bottle, “It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Or do I need to ruin our friendship by asking to see a warrant?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Dwight leaned against the railing of the boat. Dwight tried to smile at Duke again, “Besides, would it do me any good if I _did_ have one?”

Duke shook his head, taking a drink, “Probably not.”

Dwight smirked, letting out the start of a laugh, but didn’t say anything more. There was a pause, as Dwight seemed to be considering how he wanted to say whatever it was he’d come to say.

Duke took another swig of his beer, “I’ve had bad dates that’ve been less awkward than this, Dwight. What’s going on?”

“It’s…well, it’s about Jennifer.” Dwight said, watching Duke carefully.

Everything about Duke seemed to freeze and turn rigid. Dwight was reminded of making eye contact with a mountain lion and realizing you’d crossed into its territory and it was waiting to see how much farther you were willing to go before it struck you down.

Duke held his beer in his hands as he asked coldly, “What about her?”

“When she was… _here_ ,” Dwight began, deciding it was best to say “here” rather than “alive,” and shifting slightly against the railing, “She’d gotten nervous about someone stealing her identity—I think it was shortly after the, uh, the ‘Tyler Incident.’”

Duke nodded stiffly, looking just to the left of Dwight and keeping his face stoic. The memory of what Tyler had done to him flashed in his mind, but so did what Tyler had made him do to Jennifer.

 “ _I don't know who you really are, but I will shoot you and I'll probably accidentally hit you in the face so don't come near me._ ”

“ _You kissed me._ ”

“ _You kissed me back._ ”

“So she had asked me to keep an eye on her card activity—listing me as a contact with the company—in case anything strange popped up, and when she’d…well…I had taken the liberty of cancelling her cards, but a few days ago something…uh, something came up.”

Duke looked at him—well, more accurately, Duke _glared_ at him, his anger already starting to show through the carefully emotionless mask.

Dwight stood from the railing and risked walking closer to Duke, “Is…is there _anyone_ in Boston who would know how to get her cards activated? Did she ever mention—,”

“Are you trying to tell me that someone _stole_ her identity and is using her cards back in Boston.” Duke asked, but his cold tone made it sound more like a statement.

“I’m not sure.” Dwight conceded, uncrossing then re-crossing his arms, “I had a friend of mine in the Boston PD stake out one of the places that this person seemed to frequent. He…he said he saw a woman making the exact purchase that’d been logged by the company that matched Jennifer’s description damn near to a ‘T’.”

Duke’s gaze turned lethal, eyes narrowing in anger, “Is this some kind of fucking _joke_?”

Dwight shook his head, “If I had thought it was, I would have dealt with it on my own. Is there any chance that—,”

“No.” Duke nearly shouted, “No there’s no _fucking_ chance that it’s her.”

“Duke, I didn’t—,” Dwight tried again, holding his hands up like one might do with a snarling dog.

“ _I_ was the one who ID’ed her.” He _was_ shouting now, and stood up, throwing his beer bottle down and shattering it against the deck, “Now. You’re fucking _telling_ me that someone has stolen her cards and is just…just living _her_ life? I’m gonna _fucking_ —,”

“ _Duke_.” Dwight shouted back, cutting him off. Duke staggered slightly, as if Dwight had struck him across the face. Dwight stood next to him, posture squared as if he expected Duke to throw himself at him, his gaze steady. Duke glared back at him, his hands shaking at his sides and breathing heavily, but he kept from shouting—or striking—back.

“I don’t _know_ what this means, Duke. I just know that you had a _right_ to know what I’ve found.” Dwight said calmly. Duke clenched his jaw but nodded, taking a few careful breaths, as Dwight began to walk away.

“What do you expect me to—,” Duke began to say.

“That lantern I gave you.” Dwight interrupted, pausing just before he reached the stairs back down to the pier and keeping his back to Duke, “The purple one. Did Jennifer do what I asked? Did she write something for Lizzy?”

Duke nodded carefully, though clearly confused at the turn in the conversation, “She, uh, she wrote her a letter, along with everyone else Haven lost to the Troubles. She…she told them she loved them and that they were missed. She told Lizzy that you were a hero.”

Dwight bowed his head at that, and let out a chuckle, “That was good of her.”

Dwight reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope and set it on top of some crates next to him, tapping it gently, “She was too kind for the things that happened to her.”

With that, Dwight went ashore, not looking back. Duke crossed the deck and picked the manila envelope up carefully. He looked in the direction that Dwight had gone, only to see his car pulling away. Duke opened it and pulled out everything Dwight had on whoever it was that was using Jennifer’s cards.

Duke let out an agitated breath through his nose.

So much for going somewhere sunny.

* * *

“Jennifer!” a voice yelled from the top of the spiral staircase in the back of the bookstore. Jennifer sighed as she marked the page of her book, hopped from her stool behind the counter, and headed towards the voice. She glanced at the couch that was tucked among the shelves of the Fiction section across from her, regarding the large black Great Dane that hadn’t even perked his ears up at the noise, “No, don’t get up, Little John, _I’ll_ take care of it.”

Little John only wagged his tail as she spoke to him, earning an eye roll out of her.

She leaned against the poles of the banister to the stairs and looked up towards the beaded curtain of the loft, “Yes?”

Her cousin’s head popped out from the curtain, causing a makeshift rain sound. The long part of her brown hair was still wet from the shower she had taken, the right side of her head looked freshly shaved, and her glasses looked the slightest bit fogged from being left on the bathroom counter. She looked down at Jennifer through her black rimmed glasses, “When was your thing with Holly? I was thinking of closing early and taking Brielle out for ice cream, but you know how cranky she gets when she doesn’t get to see her favorite ‘auntie.’”

Jennifer giggled, “Adelaide, you _know_ I wrote this on the calendar.”

Adelaide gave her an incredulous look, “We don’t own a _calendar_.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes, “Adelaide, it’s on the wall behind you. I can _see_ it.”

She pointed to just over Adelaide’s left shoulder. Adelaide glanced there, pausing as she considered the tropical calendar that was, indeed, hanging just behind her. In cheesy postcard font across the image of the beach were the worlds, “Visit Somewhere Sunny!”

Adelaide turned back to her, “Well maybe I just wanted to hear your _melodious_ voice.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes as she twisted her left wrist to look at the time, “I should have time for at least _one_ ‘I Believe I Can Fly,’ once she gets here.”

Adelaide grinned at her, “You’ve just saved the world from one _very_ cranky six year old.”

Jennifer shrugged, “It’s a skill. I’ve got ‘Jennifer Mason: Placater of Cranky Six-Year Olds’ printed on all my business cards. Right next to ‘Hot Chocolate Connoisseur,’ and right underneath…”

Jennifer trailed off, a dull throb suddenly pulsing just behind her eyes. She rubbed her forehead, trying to alleviate the pressure that had sprung up. Little John, who had apparently decided that the mention of hot chocolate must have something to do with him and was now standing next to Jennifer, nudged her elbow with his nose. Jennifer scratched him between his ears and tried to smile at him, even as her vision began to go the slightest bit blurry.

“Underneath…?” Adelaide prompted, though she sounded, briefly, like she was saying it from far away.

“Hm?” Jennifer replied, looking back up at her cousin who was looking at her quizzically. As she looked and focused on Adelaide, it was as if everything came back into focus; even the throbbing seemed to lessen, if only slightly. “Oh!” Jennifer shook her head, trying to clear the rest of the cobwebs from her brain, “I, uh, I don’t remember.”

Adelaide looked at her for a moment longer before shrugging and disappearing back behind the beaded curtain, “It probably wasn’t important.”

Jennifer nodded and turned back towards the front of the store, mumbling, “It probably wasn’t important.”

Little John followed closely behind her as she walked. She climbed back on to her stool behind the counter, adjusting her gray cardigan around her cream tunic with blue peach blossoms on it. The throbbing behind her eyes had slowly receded, and she tried to pick her book back up, only to have Little John thrust his head into her lap, looking up at her expectantly.

She rolled her eyes at him, “What? What do you need, Little Thing?”

His tail was wagging lazily, threatening to knock down the stacks of books behind her as well as send the papers on the shelves inside the counter flying, and he adjusted his head so that he was the slightest bit closer to her. She only grinned at him and began to vigorously scratch his head, telling him, “Oh you’re a _spoiled_ little thing, aren’t you?”

She remembered when Adelaide had suggested getting a puppy shortly after her mom died. She remembered she had been initially resistant to the idea, asking something along the lines of, “What am I going to do with a puppy?”

But when she had seen Little John, the runt of the litter, come ambling up to her on paws that were too big for his little frame, she’d fallen in love. She’d named him “Little John” after the friend of Robin Hood, as a way of paying tribute to the movie her adoptive parents had seen together on their first date; also because she found naming this behemoth of a dog “little” hilarious. Before he’d grown too much, she’d taken to calling him, “Little Thing”; another tribute to her parents, though more specifically to how her mother had always told her that life was about appreciating the little things.

He was a good boy, always seemed to be in-tuned with what she was feeling and always protective of her, but, try as she might, she couldn’t really remember _how_ she’d trained him. In fact, what she _did_ remember of that time seemed more like it had been something she experienced second hand. Like showing a picture book to a child, “See? This happened, and then this. Remember this. Don’t worry about anything else, there is _only_ this.”

Jennifer hadn’t mentioned this lapse in her memory to Adelaide yet; she knew how much Adelaide worried about her in general let alone since the accident.

Little John turned his head and licked her hand, pulling her out of her thoughts and earning a laughing groan out of Jennifer, “Ew! Aw, buddy, that’s _gross_!”

Little John’s tail only wagged harder as she glared at him and wiped her now sufficiently slobbery hand on her olive-green pants.

“That’s a good way to ruin those pants,” Adelaide commented, walking passed her through the beaded curtain that led into the kitchenette. She’d changed into a pair of dark skinny jeans and a ratty band t-shirt, showing off her numerous tattoos, and the long hair on the left side of her head had been pulled back into a ponytail, hanging over the freshly shaved back of her head.

Jennifer shrugged and called after her, “Eh, I’ll need to change before I leave anyway. Holly somehow got us into that new Italian place five blocks over that everyone’s been talking about.”

“Girl’s got skills.” Came the impressed reply.

Jennifer chuckled as she climbed off her stool, snapping her fingers and gesturing in front of her to direct Little John, “And she knows it too.”

Little John obediently, though reluctantly, backed away from Jennifer as she began to walk to the back of the store, towards where her room was. He followed behind her briefly before heading back to the couch that he had previously vacated. Her room was a rather small space, all things considered, and had been repurposed from an office (though, with Adelaide, “office” was just another word for “storage”), but was a peaceful forest green color and luckily had enough room for her mattress and a least some room for walking around it. It was also one of the only rooms in the space owned by Adelaide that still had a real door to it and not just a beaded curtain. Adelaide had tried on more than one occasion to convince Jennifer that her little space would benefit from one of her numerous beaded curtains in her collection. Jennifer had squashed that idea as quickly as she had brought it up, snidely commenting that, “If I’m going to be reduced to living in a former office space, I’m going to be living in a former office space that allows me some _privacy_.” She’d been less than pleased at the initial upheaval of her life, post-accident, and she unfairly took it out on Adelaide at the time through snide comments. She’d apologized shortly after, but she still felt like her response to her cousin opening her home to her unfairly and tried, often, to repay Adelaide however she could.

Once inside the room, regardless of how she acquired it, she made quick work of changing, tossing her clothes onto her bed and slipping into a pair of dark tights with transparent flowers on the calves and a gray dress with an embroidered white floral overlay. She put in her yellow flower earrings, and tried to adjust her curls. She considered her reflection as she fixed her makeup.

Her hair had gotten much longer than she last remembered it being. When was the last time she’d had it cut? Was it before the sailing accident? Had time just gotten away from her? After all, there isn’t much time to really worry about hair length when you’re recovering from a head-wound and partial drowning.

But, then again, no, she thought, tilting her head as the thought occurred to her. That didn’t feel right. She almost felt like she’d decided to grow it out because of what someone had said. Someone had told her that they liked the curl her hair got at this length, that they liked running their fingers through it. She felt as if she had liked that idea, like she had loved the idea of their fingers curling with the curl of her hair.

Who had said that? A figure tried to clarify itself in her mind, but when she tried to focus on it, the throb from earlier by the stairs came back, and when she pushed on it, it was as if the throb pushed _back_.

Water. That was all she could get out of the foggy image; that the figure was by water. Which, of course, is a helpful thing to have pop up, when you live in a city built on a harbor on the East Coast.

She shook her head, sighing, as she finished her makeup and attempted to fluff her hair with her fingers, “It probably isn’t important.”

Even as she said it, though, she wasn’t sure if she believed it.

She grabbed a black blazer, to wear as she walked to the restaurant, from her small closet in the corner, along with her heeled black suede ankle boots from the floor of the same closet. She grabbed her purse from the floor next to her bed, grabbing her keys from her dresser and tossing them in as well, before heading back out to the main floor of the store and closing the door behind her. Little John jumped off his couch and ambled along behind her. Jennifer climbed back onto the stool behind the counter as Little John sat next to her. She began putting her boots on as she called out to Adelaide, “Hey, have you heard anything else from the storage unit people? I really miss having my quilt and my dad’s sweater.”

“I’ll get on the phone with them tonight, maybe make a few workers cry, and see if that gets us any results.” Came the reply from the kitchenette over the whistle of a teakettle. As the whistle died out, Adelaide continued, “I can’t believe they misplaced the key for a storage unit! It’s not like it’s their fucking _job_ or anything. Once we get your things back, we should _definitely_ look into moving your stuff to a new company.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes as she pulled her phone out of her purse to check for any new messages from Holly, and mumbled, “I’d rather move my stuff into my _own_ place.”

“Jennifer,” it was half a warning and half exasperated, “until the doctors say that you are _okay_ to be alone—,”

The bells on the storefront door jingled, cutting Adelaide off, as a little black haired six year old came bounding through the door, followed by a tired looking black man in a gray hoodie and jeans. The little girl beamed at Jennifer, green eyes sparkling, “Hi Auntie Jen!”

Jennifer grinned back, hopping off of her stool. Little John stayed by the stool obediently as Jennifer walked around the counter, arms spread wide, and exclaimed, “There’s my favorite six year old!”

Brielle grinned as she leapt into Jennifer’s arms. Jennifer hugged her and looked at the man standing nervously at the door, “Hi, Joshua!”

Joshua smiled, “Hi, Ms. Mason.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes, standing but still holding Brielle’s hand, “Joshua, I think we’ve known each other a little _too_ long for you to be calling me ‘Ms. Mason.’ Heard anything from your sister today?”

Joshua rubbed his buzzed head, “Not yet today. You look nice though; you two’re going out to dinner, right? At that new place on Hanover?”

She nodded, “That’s right. I’ll make sure to give Holly a good lecture for not talking to her little brother today.”

Joshua chuckled and shook his head.

She looked down at Brielle, “What do we say to Mr. Joshua?”

Brielle beamed up at Joshua, “Thank you for walking me home, Mr. Joshua!”

He smiled back, “You be good for your Aunt and Momma, now.”

Brielle nodded back, “I will!”

He smiled at Brielle and then nervously smiled at Jennifer, “Ms. Mason.”

Jennifer smiled back, rolling her eyes at him, and with that, Joshua left, heading back to his own store down the street.

When the door jingled closed, Jennifer picked Brielle up and spun her around, singing loudly and off key, “ _I believe I can fly!_ ”

From the kitchenette, they heard an equally off key, “ _I believe I can touch the sky!_ ”

Brielle squealed with laughter, as Jennifer slowed her spinning and set Brielle back on the floor, and carefully leaned against the counter as a dizzy spell came over her.

Brielle looked up at her, her little eyes bright with concern, “You okay, Auntie?”

Jennifer just tried to nod, still bracing herself on the counter. In the back of her mind, she could just barely hear another voice, one that was startlingly familiar, the figure she’d tried to clarify in her mind earlier came back up, and it was as if some of the fog around it had lessened, but the image was still unclear. A pier. The figure was standing on a pier.

“ _Hey. You okay?_ ”

A hand pressed against her shoulder, she turned to look and saw Adelaide, her own green eyes giving her the same concerned look that Brielle had given her, “Jennifer, are you okay?”

“I just…need a second,” Jennifer tried to smile at her, but her own voice sounded like it was coming from a tin can and the edges of her vision were still tinged in black.

Adelaide shook her head as Jennifer took a few slow breaths, “You _know_ what the doctors said about exerting yourself. Ever since that sailing accident—,”

“Adelaide.” Jennifer cut her off, her eyes flashing her cousin a warning as she straightened her posture, “I’m _fine_. I just need a second.”

Adelaide held her hands up, backing away slightly, “Alright. Alright. Excuse the fuck outta me for being a concerned cousin.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes, just as her phone buzzed on the counter. She picked it up and grinned at the screen before pointing at Adelaide sternly, “Don’t worry about me so much. I’m _fine_. Now. I’m going to go have dinner with my _other_ worrywart warden—,”

“Bet you can’t say that three times fast,” Adelaide interrupted, making a face at Brielle.

“Worrywart warden, worry-wort—,” Brielle struggled to say as Jennifer grabbed her purse from the counter. She crouched slightly in front of Little John who sniffed at her face, tail thumbing on the floor. She scratched his chest as Brielle continued to try to say “worrywart warden” and said to him, “You be a good boy. When I get back, we’ll go for a nice long walk.”

Little John’s tail thumbed harder against the floor.

She grinned at him before standing back up, slipping into her black blazer and then hitching her purse over her shoulder as she kissed Adelaide and then Brielle on the cheek, “Be safe and have fun you two! I’ll see you tonight!”

“Bye Auntie Jen!” Brielle called as the doors jingled closed.

* * *

Adelaide scooped Brielle into a hug, “Hello Sweetness.”

Brielle kissed her mom’s cheek, “Hi Momma!”

Adelaide held up her left wrist where the name “Desmond” was tattooed in scrawling script, and Brielle kissed the tattoo, “Hi Daddy!”

 Adelaide nuzzled her face against Brielle’s, “How was your day?”

“I bit a boy who was being mean to me!” Brielle beamed at her as she squished Adelaide’s face in her hands.

“Oh, _that’s_ gonna be a fun phone call.” Adelaide laughed as she carried Brielle and her backpack to the back of the store towards the stairs to the loft, “Did he deserve it?”

“He called me stupid and messed up the picture I was doing.” Brielle said matter-of-factly. Little John tentatively scratched at the door to Jennifer’s room just before Adelaide could begin her climb up to the loft. Adelaide sighed before walking the rest of the way to the back of the shop. Once there, she opened Jennifer’s door and then, as Little John leapt onto the bed happily, closed it.

“Did you break the skin?” Adelaide asked as she finally began to climb the stairs. Once in their loft, she dropped her daughter on to the couch in the middle of their small living room.

Brielle shook her head as she shifted on the couch for Adelaide to sit down, “No, but he’s gonna have a bruise for a while.”

Adelaide wrapped her arm around Brielle’s shoulders, pulling her closer to her side, and kissed her head, “Remember, we don’t bite…”

“Unless they deserve it.” Brielle finished.

Adelaide’s cell phone started buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and grimaced at the screen. She turned back to Brielle, “That’s right. Now, you go start on your homework, and then you and I will go get ice cream, how’s that sound?”

Brielle grinned and leapt from the couch, “Oh boy!”

Adelaide just grinned as Brielle ran into her room to start in on her homework, her backpack bouncing against her back as she went. Once Brielle had closed the door to her bedroom, Adelaide looked back at the phone before she sighed and hit the “accept” button, “Yes?”

“How’s she doing?” the voice on the other end asked.

Adelaide shrugged, “Well enough now.”

“‘Now’?” the voice repeated.

“We…we had at _least_ two episodes earlier, though.” Adelaide conceded.

“What happened.” The voice demanded, not even really bothering to make it sound like a question.  
Adelaide bristled at the voice’s tone, but rather than tell the voice what it could do with its rude tone, she sighed to try to calm herself back down.

“She was talking about business cards and hot chocolate when the first one happened, and then again when she was playing with Brielle.” Adelaide answered, glancing back at Brielle’s door, “And while I’d rather _not_ be in the position of ‘narc,’ those _were_ the only two that I _actually_ witnessed.”

“I assume you handled the situation.” The voice said coldly.

Her earlier agitation flashed back up and she didn’t bother stamping it back down, “If you mean I did your dirty work _for_ you, and told an innocent woman that her attempts at remembering over a year of her life and the subsequent pain that that causes her are simply the by-product of a—,” she raised her left hand and mimed air quotes for her own benefit, “—‘boating accident;’ then you’d be right; I handled the situation. But this is the _last_ time. This is _not_ my job.”

“You’re _job_ is to maintain balance,” the voice replied snidely, “just as it was your father’s. You are _meant_ to protect—,”

“No.” Adelaide snapped, cutting off the voice, “You misunderstand my position. _I_ am the owner of a bookstore. Nothing more. Now, as a _decent_ human being, I have an obligation to help the people that are under my roof but I will help them how _I_ see fit.”

“You arrogant—!”

“You should be _aware_ ,” she interrupted, nearly yelling back at the voice, “that your first mistake was giving me someone that I could _care_ about. You would do well to remember that the next time you speak to me or try to tell me what my _job_ is.”

With that, and well before the other side could try to voice a rebuttal again, Adelaide ended the call, tossing the phone on to the couch cushion next to her.

* * *

Duke had debated for the better part of the day whether to sail or drive to Boston for what he needed to do.

Well, if he was being honest with himself, _need_ was a complicated term.

What he _wanted_ was to find the person who had stolen her identity and make them pay for it.

Either way, he had finally decided on sailing down to Boston; at least then, whether out of necessity or with some modicum of peace of mind granted him, he’d be able to just sail off to that “Somewhere Sunny.”

He’d paid to dock at a marina near the North End of Boston where most of the purchases on the credit cards had been made. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be staying in Boston waiting for whoever it was to show themselves (after all, Boston’s a big place), but he figured a month was safe; and even if he gave up before then, he wasn’t too concerned about losing money.

He’d brought his truck with him, and drove it off the Rouge to the pier. He didn’t have a plan yet and he certainly didn’t expect the guilty party to be wearing a sign that said “WANTED: FIST TO THE FACE FOR STEALING AN INNOCENT DEAD WOMAN’S CREDIT CARD INFORMATION”, but he figured he could at least drive down to the area the purchases had been made and see if anyone matched up with detective’s report that Dwight had given him. As he drove around, he tried to remember what part of Boston she had said she used to live in; he knew the Aquarium that the Barn had spat him out was in this part of the city, but he could’ve sworn that she’d said on a couple of occasions that she lived a bit closer to the _Globe_ offices towards South Boston—not that it mattered, of course, where whoever had stolen her cards had decided to start using them.

It wasn’t her.

He knew that.

As evening began to fall, and his hunt was proving fruitless, Duke opted to park his car in one of the public parking structures near Hanover street, and decided to walk around to try to find a place to eat.

It’d been awhile since he was last in Boston. At least this time he hadn’t been thrown into the seal tank at the aquarium.

Under different circumstances, the thought might have made him chuckle. But under _these_ circumstances, he had to fight the urge to punch anyone who got too close to him. Not that anyone seemed to be willing to tempt him on that. Duke was nothing if not capable of communicating to those around him that he was not a man to be interfered with. Duke buried his hands further into his jean jacket and hunched his shoulders slightly against the cool breeze that was wondering through the streets with him.

It’d been a long time since he’d been in a city of substantial size for anything that wasn’t Trouble related, and as he walked, he tried to look at the people around him. He used to like making up stories about the people he saw on the streets, wondering about where they came from, where they were going, what secrets they had hidden away; in a town like Haven, you already knew most of those things, so what was the point in speculating?

Take the stout man who was bustling passed him, looking agitated. In his head, Duke decided that the little man had had the _worst_ day at the office, what with Jerry in accounting not _only_ drinking the last of the coffee before he even got there, but then Jerry had the _audacity_ to eat his lunch and claimed that it’d been a mistake. Compacted with his impotency issues and the fact that he hadn’t actually _touched_ his wife in over a year, though she seemed rather consistently satisfied, and the stout angry man’s rage was clearly reaching a head.

The stout man continued to angrily fast walk down the street and rudely bumped into a woman standing outside the Italian restaurant that was just ahead of him.

“Hey, watch it pal!” she yelled after him.

Duke froze in his tracks. He knew that voice. He knew that voice as well as he knew his own. He stared as the woman shook her dark brown curls; the pale skin of her face was lightly flushed from yelling at the stout man. She turned back to her phone, smiling at the screen, and Duke almost fell to his knees in relief and joy.

Oh god.

He knew that _smile_.

_Jennifer_.

He hadn’t _thought_ her name, let alone spoken it, since he…since he let her go, and yet as he stood there, looking at a woman who couldn’t be anyone else _but_ her, he found that that was the only thing that he _could_ think or say.

“Jennifer?” he whispered, already starting to walk towards her. She’d gone from looking at her phone to looking around her now, like she was trying to find someone. Part of him, the part that hoped every time the Rouge creaked it was her coming home, hoped that it was for him.

“Jennifer!” he called, breaking out in a run towards her. He was calling her name as desperately as he had when he’d found the _Herald’s_ office ransacked and her missing. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Though, truly, it felt like _two_ lifetimes ago.

She looked up at the man who was yelling her name like he’d been looking for her for years. She didn’t recognize him, but before she could say anything about it, he embraced her; hugging her so tightly she struggled momentarily to breathe. She didn’t know what to do or how to respond, but she figured it was best to let the man hug her and then try to talk to him. She didn’t feel threatened; he was too concerned, too…the more she tried to quantify it, the harder it became to know _why_ it was that she didn’t feel threatened when everything told her that she should be.

He broke the embrace, and touched her neck gently as his other hand held her shoulder. There were tears in his eyes as he looked at her, studying her face, but he was smiling.  She found herself thinking that he had a really nice smile. _Focus, Jennifer._ She thought to herself, focusing back on him and what he was saying.

“You’re okay.” He said, his voice wavering, “You’re okay.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” she answered, shifting slightly.

Confusion finally broke through Duke’s unbridled joy as he registered the problem with what was happening, “How are you okay? How long have you been here? No—wait, how are you _alive_? Why didn’t—,” he brought his other hand up to cup her face and leaned down to look at her, thumbs stroking her cheek bones, “Short Stack, why didn’t you come _home_?”

She fidgeted nervously under the touch and gaze of this strange—though admittedly not unattractive—man and carefully placed her hand over his wrist, pushing it away from her face. Something small and quiet that she recognized as the same thing that had popped up earlier that day to tell her about the water and the pier whispered in her mind, protesting how she pushed his hands away.

She smiled nervously at him, even as the dull throb behind her eyes began again, quieting the part of her that protested, “Okay, easy there buddy. What’s your name? Is there someone I can…I can _call_ for you?”

Duke clung to his confusion even as his heart started to break at her pushing his hands away, “What? Jennifer, you _know_ who I am. It’s me. It’s _Duke_ ; Duke Crocker. And you’re Jennifer Mason. Short Stack, _please_ …”

He moved to touch her again, but she moved back. He held his hands up, demonstrating that he wouldn’t move to touch her again, even though every part of him wanted to pick her up and carry her back to the Rouge and not let her go until they were in that “Somewhere Sunny” and probably not even then. Even as he stood there, a plan was forming in the back of his mind to get her back to his car, onto the Rouge, and out on open water before the sun was gone. He focused back on Jennifer, and realized how closed to him she was. He let his hands fall to his sides briefly before sticking them back in his jacket pockets to remove the temptation.

“Okay. Duke.” She smiled at him. Duke wanted to stop everything and only hear her say that; just his name, over and over again to make up for all the times this past year that he was sure that he’d never hear her say it again. “That’s a nice name. I’d introduce myself but you seem to already know me so—,”

“What happened? Why are you acting like…like you don’t know me?” Duke asked, feeling his heart caving in. There was only one reason he could think of for why Jennifer would be alive and not come back to him, and it was something he didn’t want to consider.

Jennifer shook her head, “Buddy, I’m _really_ sorry, but I think you’ve got me _very_ confused with another Jennifer Mason. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jennifer shook her head, “Buddy, I’m _really_ sorry, but I think you have me _very_ confused with another Jennifer Mason. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

Duke felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.

Or, more accurately, he felt as if someone had taken a baseball bat and swung it straight into his torso and was now laughing at him.

The Universe could be an asshole like that.

“Wha—?” was all he managed to get out before a familiar, albeit it markedly un-digitized, voice interrupted.  
“Oh my God! Duke? Duke _Crocker_?” Jennifer turned to see Holly walking briskly towards them. She was wearing a gorgeous floor length raspberry red dress that had a lace bodice with crisscrossing bands. Her head wrap was a deep red as well, detailed with gold patterns that accented the thick gold necklace she’d chosen that hung close to her neck. Her jean jacket stopped just below where the bodice ended and the rest of the skirt began, and was a faded light blue that seemed to be getting dangerously close to what could be called “acid washed.” In her red heels, she was easily Duke’s height, if not a centimeter taller, and she used that to wrap her arms around his shoulders in a hug.

“Play along and do _exactly_ as I say.” Holly whispered fiercely to him. Duke, still reeling from seeing Jennifer and then being told that she didn’t remember him, only nodded as she pulled away, beaming at him. Duke couldn’t help but be impressed at how natural it looked, given that this was the first time they had ever actually met in person and he was positive that running into him was the last thing Holly expected when she’d made her plans for the evening—whatever they may be.

“You know him?” Jennifer asked, a bit skeptical but clearly relieved that someone here seemed to have answers.

“Why, of course! _Surely_ I’ve told you about him,” Holly replied, voice light as she turned her smile to Jennifer. Jennifer relaxed under her friend’s gaze and shifted to stand the slightest bit closer to her, exactly as she’d done with Duke in Haven when she’d felt threatened or nervous. He felt a new part of him break; she wasn’t supposed to move away from _him_ like that.

Duke tried to keep his expression neutral as Holly turned back to him, “Jennifer Mason; meet Duke Crocker. He’s, uh, he’s an old _friend_ from Grad school.”

Duke tried to smile at Jennifer who nervously smiled back, nodding to him as she shifted the slightest bit closer to Holly. He wanted to say or do something to put Jennifer back at ease around him, but Holly beat him to the punch—very nearly literally.

Holly lightly batted at his arm, forcing him to look back at Holly, “You son of a bitch, why didn’t you _tell_ me you were in Boston? We could’ve _planned_ something much less… _spontaneous_ than this.”

“Uh, just…poor planning, I guess.” He said as he focused back on Holly, picking up on her meaning and still trying to smile and act as if he understood what was happening. He kept thinking to himself, _don’t stare at her, don’t stare at her, you’ll only freak her out more, Jesus but she’s right_ there _. She hasn’t changed at all. How hasn’t she changed? Damn it, don’t_ stare _at her._

“You got that right,” Holly laughed as she turned back to Jennifer, “Jen, honey, why don’t you go on in and get to our table? It should be under my name.”

Jennifer nodded and glanced nervously back at Duke, “Alright. What about you?”

Holly just grinned and rubbed her arm reassuringly, “I just need a moment with Mr. Crocker, here. See if we can’t figure out another, more _appropriate_ , time to meet up.”

Jennifer smiled sheepishly as she turned back to Duke, “It was, uh, it was nice to meet you, Duke. I, uh, hope you find who you were looking for.”

 _I already did,_ Duke thought, but he could only manage half of a wave as she walked into the bustling restaurant. He watched after her, every part of him telling him to follow her, until Holly snapped her fingers in front of his face, “Eyes front, Sailor.”

Duke turned his confusion and, unfortunately, his agitation at Holly, “Holly, what. The _fuck_ is going on.”

“Watch your tone.” She snapped back. She didn’t actually move to touch him but her tone seemed to jab at him as she continued, “Stand up straight. Smile at me. Act like we’re having a friendly conversation.” She instructed, her face grave, and her own agitation coming through as she straightened her posture to use every inch of her aided height in front of him.

“ _What?_ ” Duke snapped, straightening as well instinctively.

Holly narrowed her gaze at him, “Jennifer _notices_ things. Wherever the table is in that restaurant she’s probably already positioned herself so she can look out the windows at our conversation. So unless you want to freak her out more than you already have, _smile_ , and act like we’re having a normal conversation.”

Duke rolled his shoulders, relaxed his posture slightly—just enough to stop using his full height to impose himself over her—and tried to give Holly a smile. It apparently wasn’t all that convincing because Holly sighed exasperatedly back, “That’ll have to do. Look, I can’t say much right now since she’s waiting for me, but I’m staying at the Fairmont on Battery Wharf.”

Duke nodded, committing the name of the hotel to memory, as Holly continued, “I will be at the bar there at ten tonight. Meet me there, and I’ll tell you what I know so far.”

Duke’s jaw clenched in response, and he nodded tensely. This was fucking ridiculous. Jennifer was there—right fucking _there_ —and instead of being able to go to her, instead of being the person she hid behind when she felt threatened, he was being told to stay away.

Fucking. _Ridiculous._

Holly studied him for a moment, and her agitation ebbed, apparently seeing something more in him than just his obvious anger at not being able to go to Jennifer. She placed a tentative, though sympathetic, hand on his arm, “It’s just for a few more hours, Duke, and then you’ll have all the answers you can handle and that I can give you. Until then, maybe go clean yourself up. You look like you haven’t slept in months; you look like _hell_.”

“That’s big talk coming from an insomniac.” Duke commented, joking half-heartedly. He wanted to look through the windows behind Holly into the restaurant and find Jennifer, just to make sure she was still there, but he thought better of it, keeping his attention on Holly. If Jennifer _was_ watching like Holly said, he didn’t want to make her anymore nervous around him than he already, and rather stupidly, had.

The hand on his arm went from sympathetic to annoyed as she batted at him lightly, “Hey, I’ll remind you that I’m a _professional_ insomniac. I know how to keep up appearances—unlike _some_ people, apparently.”

Duke smirked, lightly pushing her hand away, “Easy there, Sunshine. We’re supposed to be _friends_.”

Holly chuckled, “ _There_ he is. There’s the Duke I’ve seen on Skype. There’s the Duke Jennifer loves.”

Duke let out a heartbroken bark of a laugh before rubbing at his lips and chin, “Yeah.”

“Alright.” She rolled her shoulders, and stood up straight again. “Now. Give me a hug.” Holly prompted, holding her arms open.

“What?” Duke asked, looking at her like she’d grown a third limb.

“We’re old friends from Grad school, remember?” She grinned at him, “You gotta sell it. Hug me.” Holly moved her fingers, prompting him to hug her.

He did, carefully. When he pulled away, she repeated, “Remember; ten o’clock at the Fairmount.”

Duke nodded as she headed into the restaurant. She paused at the door and turned back to him, “And _try_ to look like a human being.”

He gave her a confused look and made to reply to her comment, but she disappeared among the other waiting patrons before he could. He looked around himself for a moment, half expecting the world to have changed in some way. But it was just like it had been when he thought Jennifer was dead, which was just like it was when she’d been with him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to get his bearings, before he decided to walk back to his truck. He tired to prioritize what he needed to do in the hours before he met back up with Holly to get answers. Even if it _was_ someone he’d only ever encountered through a computer screen prior to this, he had to trust that Holly was going to be upfront with him about whatever the hell was happening around Jennifer—and that if Holly thought she was safe, then she really was. He was walking quickly back towards his truck when he caught his reflection in a storefront window, causing him to stop in his tracks and really _look_ at himself.

Holly was right; he looked like hell.

His hair—what he hadn’t chopped off in the days following Jennifer’s…was “death” even applicable anymore?—was a mussed and unkempt mess, his clothing was rumbled, and his eyes had dark circles and bags under them.

If he and Jennifer had run into this version of him back in Haven, and he’d done what he’d done tonight, Duke would have sent him to the Drunk tank with one hell of shiner.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it look more presentable, and sighed.

A shower was decidedly in order. His stomach growled loudly, as if it were agreeing with his decision.

When was the last time he’d eaten?

Hell, when was the last time he’d _wanted_ to eat?

He finalized his plan of food, shower, most likely nervous pacing until ten o’clock rolled around, and then going to see Holly. He turned and headed back down the street.

* * *

Jennifer watched through the window from the table the hostess had led her to as Holly talked to Duke. The restaurant itself was fairly dim, making the brightest source of light the wide window that faced the street, which made the pedestrians walking passed seem like they were in a movie. She watched Holly carefully. Holly’s back was to her, but she had known Holly long enough to be able to read her back as easily as if she were seeing her face. Holly seemed comfortable enough while she was talking to this “Grad school friend,” but there was an anxiety in the set of her shoulders that made Jennifer all the more suspicious—add in the fact that she was clearly trying to impose her height over him and Jennifer severely doubted that these two had left things on the best of terms prior to this encounter. Holly was controlling the conversation, but Jennifer only needed to know Holly as a person to know that.

She turned her gaze to Duke, the stranger. As she studied him, she felt the faintest of throbs just behind her eyes again. She tried not to push on the _why_ behind it and tried to simply observe his behavior. He was watching Holly intently and had met her back in trying to impose his own height advantage over her, but was now trying to smile at her and nodding along with what she was saying. He looked as if he hadn’t slept, or, at the very least, hadn’t slept _well,_ in some time. She looked him up and down, taking in the rumpled clothes, the dark circles under his eyes, the slightly hollow cheeks, and recognized the signs.

He looked like a man who’d been in a state of mourning for a very long time.

He cared deeply about whoever it was he’d lost. There was a story or two between Holly and Duke and Jennifer was itching to know it as soon as she could.

He was smirking at Holly now, who had lightly hit him on the arm with the tension gone from her shoulders, and it changed his whole demeanor. His eyes, though tired, were kind, and, even though he’d scared her initially, he seemed to have a gentleness about him that made him more approachable. If she was being honest with herself, however, the fact that he was undeniably attractive probably didn’t help with that approachability.

His hair could be longer though.

The thought seemed odd to her. She’d never been really into men with long hair, and it was none of her business how he looked, yet she couldn’t help thinking that his hair should be longer.

_Should be._

Before Jennifer could follow _that_ thought any further, and before the throb that was already threatening to start back up again could get any stronger than it was, her phone buzzed. She hazarded a look at it to see that it was a message from Adelaide. She opened it, and was greeted by a picture of Adelaide and Brielle with ice cream more or less covering all of their lips, the corners of their mouths, as well as on their noses. Underneath the photo was the caption, “Greetings from the messiest worrywart wardens a girl could ask for!”

Jennifer grinned at her phone as Holly came walking up. She slid into the seat across from her, grinning broadly at Jennifer, and placed her wallet on the table. As she shrugged out of her jacket and turned to place it on the back of her chair, she spoke, “Sorry about that! I had no idea _Duke_ would be in town.”

Jennifer turned her smile to Holly, as she put her phone back into her purse, “You said he was a friend from Grad school?”  
Holly nodded, taking a drink of water, “Yeah. Well, technically. I met him while _I_ was in Grad school, but he’s been working as a transporter for most of his adult life. Truth be told, I’m not sure if he’s ever stepped foot on a college campus in his life.”

Jennifer gave her a confused look, “Transporter?”

Holly nodded again, grabbing the menu from the table, “Yeah, he’s got his own ship and he helps to transport certain items for a select clientele.”

Jennifer arched an eyebrow at her, “Sounds reputable. And you met him while _you_ were in Grad school?”

Holly just smirked at her over the menu, looking at her meaningfully, “I find that the less I ask about it, the better.”

Jennifer’s skepticism still held strong, as did her curiosity about the story behind _that_ encounter, but she refrained from asking anything further; if Holly didn’t want to go into detail, that was her choice. In the pause that followed, Jennifer took a drink of her water, attempting to sort out the events that occurred earlier outside of the restaurant before she used it to ask what Duke’s story was. She set her glass down and studied it for a moment before asking, “Did Duke, uh, did he tell you what happened?”

Holly’s brow furrowed as she read over the menu, not looking up at Jennifer, “What happened?”

“I was standing there, waiting for you, and he just came up and…and _hugged_ me.” Holly paused in her reading, suddenly looking tense, but kept her gaze steady on the menu as she continued, “He…he kept saying, you know, ‘you’re okay’ and then he started asking me how I was…how I was _alive_.” Jennifer recounted, shifting nervously.

Holly shrugged dismissively, still not looking away from the menu, “Oh, I must have told him about your accident last year the last time we talked and about how worried we were about you. I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

Jennifer shook her head, “Holly, he…he called me ‘Short Stack.’ It…it was like he _knew_ me, Holly.”

Holly finally looked at her, her face going from surprised to concerned, and she reached her hand across the table to grab Jennifer’s, “Oh, honey. I’m _so_ sorry, I guess I talk about you a lot to other people. I didn’t mean…”

She felt her brow furrow, and the action caused tears to roll down her cheeks. She was crying.

[PARAGRAPH] She shook her head, “He asked me why I didn’t come home.”

Jennifer pulled her hand back from Holly’s and lightly wiped at her cheeks, “Why…?”

Why was she crying? The small voice that had protested her removing Duke’s hands from her seemed to be the cause of it. It was heartbroken. But that didn’t make sense. What did she have to be heartbroken _about?_

Holly shook her head, “I’m sorry about that. Duke’s been…he’s been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, and I guess I’ve talked about you enough that he thought he…He didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll talk to him, I’m so sorry.”

Jennifer shook her head now, taking a deep breath to try to keep her voice from cracking, “No, he… _he_ didn’t upset me. I mean, he freaked me out, sure, but any guy who decided to randomly hug me would do that. But I didn’t…I didn’t _feel_ threatened by him? At all, actually.”

Jennifer took a careful breath as she reached for her glass to take a drink of water, a slight tremor in her hand, “It was…it was what he said. Or, I guess, _how_ he said it. He…he was so…”

The waitress came and asked for their orders. They gave them, only really half listening to her, before another pause settled on them. Holly was trying her best not to stare too much at Jennifer, but she kept her hand on the table towards her in case Jennifer chose to reach for her. Jennifer chewed her lip, staring at the tablecloth but not really seeing it, as she thought about the encounter with Duke.

 _In love_.

That’s what she had wanted to say before the waitress came. That’s why the small voice was so upset.

He had touched, he had spoken, and he had even _looked_ at her, like he was so in _love_ with her.

Something about that realization caused the throb to come back behind her eyes, stronger than it had ever been before, quieting the small voice before it could say more. She squeezed her eyes closed and touched her forehead, trying to make it stop. How was she even going to _begin_ to explain all that to Holly when she didn’t even really understand it herself? What the hell was _happening_ to her?

Holly leaned across the table to look at Jennifer and said carefully, “Hey. It’s okay. How about you tell me what you’ve been up to?”

Jennifer tried to smile reassuringly back at Holly, the throb lessening as she focused her mind and her attention on something else, “Oh, uh, you know, same ol’ same ol’. Not much happens in Adelaide’s bookstore. And she certainly hasn’t really let me _do_ anything outside of work at the bookstore since the accident.”

“Well you _know_ how scared she was at the time.” Holly pointed out, unrolling her silverware from her napkin and placing it on her lap. There was still a tension in Holly’s shoulders as she spoke, but she seemed at ease enough to want to talk about other things. She continued, “The doctors said it was a miracle you didn’t _die_.”

Jennifer sighed, “I _know_ that, just like I _know_ that she almost sued my friend from _The Globe_ whose boat I had been on when the boom knocked me out and into the water.”

Holly smirked as their waitress placed their food in front of them, “If you recall, I made my fair share of threats about that too. I nearly flew back out here and killed the guy myself.”

Jennifer giggled despite herself, “Yeah, you did! That was a fun conversation.”

She let out a few more chuckles, taking a bite out of her food, before continuing, “But, uh, ever since the doctors demanded that I—,” she raised her hands to mime quotation marks, “—‘take it easy,’ and ever since my technical retirement from _The Globe_ , I’ve been spending my days waiting for the doctors to tell me that I’m okay so that Adelaide will _finally_ concede to letting me get my own place again. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Adelaide, and I’m _so_ glad I’ve gotten to spend the last year with her and Brielle, but I feel like I’m _stuck,_ y’know? Just waiting to join the rest of the world again.”

Holly nodded as she took a bite of her food, “I understand that. But how _have_ you been feeling? Any new symptoms?”

Jennifer shrugged, momentarily pushing her food around on her plate, “Well enough.”

Holly studied her, clearly knowing that Jennifer wasn’t telling her the whole story, and if she had to guess, it had something to do with the way she’d rubbed her forehead a moment ago. But, rather than point out Jennifer’s lie just yet, Holly decided to change the subject, “How _is_ Adelaide? I feel like I haven’t seen her since your mom’s funeral.”

Jennifer grinned, enthusiastically digging back into her food, “She’s doing good! Brielle is just growing like a _weed_ and looks more like Adelaide everyday—it’s in the eyes, I think; they’re just so _green_. She calls me ‘Auntie’ because trying to explain first and second cousins is enough to give Adelaide and me a headache, but it’s the _cutest_ thing ever. Oh! _And_ she was Student of the Month in her kindergarten class last month.”

Holly smiled back, “Aren’t you just the proudest ‘auntie’ on the East Coast?”

Jennifer’s grin broadened, “Easily.”

Holly shook her head as she finished the last bite of her food, “Do they have enough room for you in that store? I don’t remember it being particularly large.”

Jennifer shrugged, “It isn’t. Adelaide has a room that she repurposed for me, but with me _and_ Little John in there, it gets a little cramped.”

“Oh that big love bug, how’s he doing? I can’t imagine all that moving between places has been easy on him.” Holly asked, leaning back in her seat, pleasantly filled from her consumed meal.

“He seems alright.” Jennifer answered, doing the same, “I think the fact that we’re in a space that he’s familiar with has helped a lot. You know that he used to stay with Adelaide when I would travel for work.”

Holly nodded, “That’s right.”

Jennifer sighed contentedly, pleasantly full, before turning the conversation to Holly, “So what about you? How’s Andre doing?”

Holly smiled softly as she looked at her wedding ring, spinning it with her thumb, “He’s doing well. He’s in Zurich right now for a conference, and then he’s got to do some more stuff for the company in Europe for the rest of the month.” She grinned at Jennifer, eyes sparkling, “So…I was _thinking_ …if you wouldn’t mind spending some time with an _old friend_ …”

Jennifer nearly leapt out of her chair, exclaiming, “Are you _kidding_ me? Of _course_!”

Jennifer stood and walked around to the other side of the table, hugging Holly tightly as she laughed, “Oh yay!”

She broke the hug but held Holly’s hands, looking at her with concern, “But a month’s a really long time for you and Andre to be a part. Is everything okay?”

Holly sighed and squeezed Jennifer’s hands, “Well, yes and no.”

Jennifer sat back in her seat and leaned on the table as Holly continued, “Andre _really_ wants kids and I do too, of course, but…” She paused, biting her lip, “I’m scared that I won’t be a good mom or that something bad is going to happen during the pregnancy because we waited so long, and Andre’s trying to understand that, he is, but every time I try to explain it to him I can just _feel_ his…I don’t know, his disengagement? He just _doesn’t_ understand and it’s been causing some…some _tension_ in our marriage lately and just, _god_ , Jen, I am _so scared._ ”

Jennifer placed her hand on the table, reaching for her friend, “Holly. Holl, _look_ at me.”

Holly took her hand and looked at Jennifer, tears threatening to fall from her eyes, “Holly, you would make an _amazing_ mom. Remember how freaked out Adelaide was when she found out she was pregnant?”

Holly let out a strained laugh, “Oh, she was _terrified._ ”

Jennifer grinned back, “That’s right. But now, she is _the_ best mom that that, or really any other, little girl could ask for.”

“But Jennifer, she and Desmond were so much _younger_ than we are now when they started.” Holly pointed out, her voice breaking slightly, “And they say that by age thirty—,”

Jennifer just smiled, “Well, not that I’m _biased_ or anything, but there’s always adoption.”

Holly’s eyes lit up and the beginnings of a smile caused the corners of her mouth to twitch upwards, “I could have my own little Jennifer Mason?”

Jennifer giggled, “Sadly, I think there’s only one.”

Holly took a calming breath, closing her eyes, and squeezed Jennifer’s fingers. When she opened her eyes again, she said, “Thank you, Jen.”

Jennifer squeezed back, “You’re welcome.”

They paused in their conversation, letting each other go, and taking drinks from their glasses, when Holly asked, “So. Are you going to tell me what that forehead rub earlier was about?”

Jennifer tried to hide her nervousness with an incredulous look and reached to take another drink from her glass, “What forehead rub?”

Holly rolled her eyes, “Jennifer Mason, don’t you even _try_. I’m the one who finally taught you how to lie, remember?”

“A skill my mom _never_ really forgave you for.” Jennifer quipped, trying to distract Holly.

Holly only crossed her arms at her, waiting.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, “Fine! Fine, just…just don’t freak out about it, okay?”

“I’ll make no such promise.” Holly replied indignantly. Her demeanor reminded Jennifer of how she imagined a Queen would respond to an unruly subject.

Jennifer sighed before explaining, “It’s just that…lately I’ve been—I just—I don’t think my memory’s quite, um, quite right.”

Holly gave her a confused look, “What do you mean?”

Jennifer shifted in her chair, “It’s—it’s kind of like—ugh, it’s so hard to explain unless it’s happening to you. Um. Okay. These last few days, when I’ll be talking or doing something, I’ll…I’ll feel like a memory is about to come up, but instead of just happening, I’ll get this…this _pain_ right behind my eyes. Just this—usually dull— _throb_.”

Holly considered this information before asking, “What… _when_ does it happen?”

“It happened the most today. The first time it happened, I was jokingly talking about what I had printed on my business cards, and then after that I was doing my makeup to get ready for dinner, and I started thinking about how long my hair had gotten and I got this…this _feeling_ like I had decided to grow it out because of what someone had said but when I tried to remember _who_ had said it, when I pushed on my memory, it was like the throb behind my eyes pushed _back_. The only thing I got from it that time was a figure that was near water.”

Holly smirked nervously, “Sounds helpful.”

Jennifer chuckled, “That’s kind of how I felt about it.”

“Anything else?” Holly pushed, leaning forward and trying to keep her voice low. Holly’s tone had her thinking that they were back to being sixteen and trying to talk about something private in front of their parents—like they were trying to hide something.  
“Well when I was playing with Brielle, I had a dizzy spell and the figure came back, only this time not only did I learn that the figure was standing on a pier—,”

“Again, super helpful,” Holly interjected.

Jennifer smiled and nodded before continuing, “— _and_ I heard, very faintly, someone say, ‘Hey. You okay?’”

“Did you recognize the voice?” Holly asked eagerly.

Jennifer shook her head, “Not…not _exactly_.”

Holly furrowed her brow at her and Jennifer tried to clarify, “It’s weird; I didn’t recognize the voice, but at the same time I…I _knew_ it. It was…”

Jennifer sighed, “It was weird.”

She paused, chewing on her lip for a moment as she considered the next part of her story. Holly watched her patiently, waiting for her to gather her words.

“Earlier…with, uh, with Duke,” Jennifer began again, tone cautious, “He, uh, he had touched my neck—even cupped my face for a second—and when I pushed his hands away, a small part of me protested, which only made the throb come back. It went away when you came, though.”

Holly tried to smile, though her concern was etched into her features, “I’ve been known to have that effect on people.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes, smirking despite herself, and continued, “Now the forehead rub _you_ witnessed was because the throb was…was particularly strong.”

Holly arched an eyebrow at her, “Any reason why?”

“I have a guess.” Jennifer mumbled.

At Holly’s anticipatory look, Jennifer took a careful breath and tried to explain, “Earlier, when I was trying to tell you about how your friend Duke had talked to me, I was…I was trying to tell you that he looked at me like he was in _love_ with me. And the small part of me that protested when I pushed his hands away? Before it could go beyond that realization, it felt like someone put a clamp on my head and _twisted_.”

Once she’d finished, she studied Holly carefully who seemed to be momentarily lost in her thoughts. Jennifer shifted in her seat, an uneasy feeling falling over her. It was rare for Holly to have nothing to say on something that seemed to bother Jennifer so deeply, and her silence, careful or otherwise, was making her nervous.

“What does…? What do you think it means?” Jennifer asked, her stomach knotting.

* * *

The door to the bookstore jingled opened. Adelaide, who had her back to the door as she was doing some re-shelving, yelled over her shoulder, “Read the sign, pal, we are very much _closed_.”

“Delivery.” Was the only reply.

Adelaide froze momentarily before setting the remaining books in her hands on the shelf that was exposed in front of her. She turned and looked at Brielle who was reading on the couch, paying no mind to the man by the door and unaware of her mother’s wariness.

“Sweetness?” She said calmly, pointedly not looking at the man standing by her store entrance and keeping her gaze fixated on her daughter.

Brielle looked up at her mom, keeping her own gaze on her, “Yes, Momma?”

Adelaide smiled weakly, “Why don’t you go brush your teeth? And then can you check on the pineapples Momma has upstairs before you go to bed?”

Brielle stood up from the couch, “Should I say good night to Daddy?”

Adelaide smiled at her, “Yeah, Sweetness, make sure to say good night to Daddy.”

Brielle walked around the counter and hugged her leg, “Love you, Momma.”

For the first time since the door opened, Adelaide shot a glare at the man at the door before leaning down and kissing her daughter’s head, “More than you know, Sweetness.”

With that, Brielle turned and disappeared into the back of the shop.

“She’s cute.” The man said, shifting his hold on the box and the bag he had with him. He had pale blond hair with surprisingly bright blue eyes, he looked to be about Adelaide’s age, but there was nothing overtly spectacular about him. Aside from his eyes, if someone had asked her to pick him out of a crowd, she doubted she’d be able to. A trait that could turn dangerous if given to a person of a certain… _disposition._

Adelaide shot him a glare so full of malice that he could have sworn she’d slapped him across the face.

“Don’t you fucking _ever_ come into my shop again when my daughter is here. And don’t you fucking _dare_ look at her if she _is_ here, do you understand me.” Her tone was so cold and full of hardly contained rage that the questions could’ve only been heard as statements.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to be making threats, Book Keeper?” The man asked, smirking arrogantly at her.

“You’re on my turf here, Stretch. As far as I’m concerned, you should be kissing my goddamned _boots_ for not denying you access.” She grinned back, though the grin could probably be more accurately described as a baring of teeth.

They stared at each other, both trying to size each other up, before the man broke, looking at the items in his hands before walking to the counter and setting them there. She smiled, reveling in the small victory.

“What’s this?” Adelaide asked, peering through the box. It looked to contain mostly junk, though there was a battered copy of _Unstake My Heart_ , a trashy vampire novel that had been at the top of her sales a few years ago. She picked it up and flipped through it absently.

“Your charge’s missing possessions.” Stretch answered simply.

“I thought they were back in Maine, with what’s-his-name, and that your bosses weren’t going to—,” Adelaide began to ask, setting the book back on the counter.

“The circumstances have changed.” Stretch answered curtly, agitation starting to bubble up.

Adelaide raised her eyebrows, smirking despite herself, “So I take it she’s not as well hidden as you all thought she was.”

“There was a failing in one of the security protocols. Nothing that can’t eventually be rectified, and certainly nothing _you_ would know anything about, I’m sure.” Stretch answered snidely.

Adelaide just looked at him in feigned bewilderment, “ _What_? But they’ve always been so _careful_. I hope they have a _plan_ for fixing it.”

Stretch didn’t say anything to that, and only narrowed his gaze at her. That was answer enough.

“But to deliver them personally like this…” Adelaide tsked her tongue, “You all must be _very_ nervous about what’s-his-name’s presence here. Afraid he’s going to rock your little boat right on ov—?”

“You will tell your charge that these things were recovered from her storage container and that she should expect a refund from the company, and nothing else.” Stretch interrupted, before starting to head for the door.

“I will do _no_ such thing.” Adelaide snapped after him. Stretch paused at the door as Adelaide continued, “I don’t know what your bosses told you, but I’m _done_ doing their dirty work for them. I will _not_ lie to her anymore.”

Stretch turned back to her, a self-satisfied smile stretched across his face, making Adelaide want to sock him in the jaw with her ring hand.

“Oh, I think you will. See, while you were telling my bosses all about the mistakes _they_ made in leaving her in your charge, _you_ made one of your own.” Stretch leaned towards her as if he were sharing a secret with her—it would’ve been vaguely threatening if it weren’t for the fact that he was still by the door, apparently more comfortable with administering his threats at a distance—“You _care_ about her. And you don’t want to hurt her. _Imagine_ , if you will, what you telling her the truth will do to her now.”

He straightened, still smug, as Adelaide lowered her gaze slightly to glare at the counter in front of him, “You’d shatter her beyond any repair. And since you are a—,” he raised his hands to mime quotation marks at her, “—‘ _decent_ human being,’ we both know you wouldn’t do that to her, no matter how _badly_ you wanted to make my bosses pay for insulting you.”

Adelaide leveled her gaze back at him, sizing him up momentarily again, before sighing, “You’re right. I wouldn’t do that to her now.”

Stretch smirked at her, even chuckled a bit, before turning back to the door.

“I _suppose_ ,” she called after him, “that that just means I have to do everything in my power to help her _remember_. And remember as soon as possible.”

Stretch turned quickly to face her, face reddened with anger, but was stopped before he could say anything by the growling of a dog. He turned his gaze back towards the rest of the shop and saw a large, black Great Dane standing there, teeth bared at him, ears pinned back, and hair standing on end.

“ _Cute_ little fella, isn’t he?” Adelaide asked, walking around the counter to stand by the behemoth dog. She crossed her arms as she stood by Little John, shifting her weight to her left leg so that her hip jutted out. She tilted her head towards Little John, “Stretch, meet Jennifer’s Guardian.”

“ _That’s_ the creature you gave to guard her?” Stretch asked, incredulously, but his fear was clear on his face and in his voice.

Adelaide laughed, “Oh, _I_ didn’t do anything. _She_ , like all my other charges, chose her Guardian. This is _all_ her.”

Little John growled at Stretch again and took a step towards him, causing him to press himself against the door in fear. Adelaide grinned, “You would do well, Stretch, to remember, if not _who_ it is you’re dealing with, then _what_ it is that’s waiting for you should you _or_ your bosses _or_ anyone _else_ decide to come back here and start making threats.”

Stretch only glared at her as he pulled the door open behind him and backed out into the street, all but taking off in a sprint as Little John barked after him.

“Easy, Little John,” Adelaide soothed, stepping in front of him and holding her open palm out to him. He sniffed at it, and immediately began to calm down. He looked up at Adelaide and started wagging his tail.

She smiled at him and scratched his head, “That’s a good boy.”

He panted at her, tail still wagging happily.

“Go lay down, Little Thing, she’ll be home soon.” Adelaide said, pointing to the couch that he loved. He didn’t have to be told twice, and made short work of getting comfortable on it with his head pointed towards the door to wait for Jennifer. Adelaide locked the store door, and turned all the lights off except for a lamp in the corner of the shop that was near Jennifer’s door. As she began to climb the stairs up to the loft, she gave the store a final glance before going through the beaded curtain to her home.

Brielle’s door was cracked slightly, to let the light from the living room into it, and Adelaide carefully pushed it open. She was only momentarily panicked to see the empty bed, before she remembered what she had told Brielle before sending her up.

“Salsa,” She said loudly in the small room, using the code word for her favorite pineapple-related recipe, and flipping the light switch. The small ballerina lamp on her bedside table gently illuminated the room as Adelaide waited for a response.

“Upside-down cake,” came the muffled reply from the toy chest at the foot of the bed.

Adelaide smiled in relief at the sound of Brielle’s voice, and walked to the toy chest. She opened it, revealing Brielle, curled up with her purple teddy bear on top of various other stuffed animals. Brielle looked up at her and Adelaide whispered gently, “Hi Sweetness.”

Brielle smiled tiredly up at her, “Hi Momma.”

Adelaide picked her up out of the chest, cradling her as she carried her back to her bed, and Brielle yawned, “Did I help?

Once she was tucked in, Adelaide kissed her forehead, “You did so _good_ tonight, baby girl. Little John helped _exactly_ how I wanted him to.”

“Is Auntie Jen gonna be okay?” she asked, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Of course she’s going to be okay, she’s got a little helper like you to watch out for her.” Adelaide grinned at her. There was a pause as Brielle seemed to struggle with wanting to say something more to her. Adelaide watched her patiently, knowing that when she was ready, she’d say something.

“Is Auntie Jen real?” Brielle asked finally and nervously. She hugged her teddy bear closer to her, as if she was afraid of what the answer to her question would be or even afraid of the question itself.

Adelaide sighed as she smoothed Brielle’s long black hair on the pillow, “Auntie Jen is…”

Adelaide paused, considering her next words carefully, then continued, “She’s as real as anyone else who comes here, Sweetness.”

Brielle nodded, chewing the inside of her lip as Adelaide continued, “But more importantly, what you _feel_ about her is real.”

Adelaide poked the spot where Brielle’s heart was in her chest, earning another brief, though tired, smile out of her before it was replaced with sadness and worry, “Is Auntie Jen going to leave us?”

Adelaide looked at her, confused, “Why do you ask, Sweetness?”

“I heard you talking to Mr. Stretch. He sounded like he wanted to take Auntie Jen away.” She answered nervously, thinking Adelaide would be angry with her for eaves dropping.

Adelaide sighed, before smoothing Brielle’s hair again, “I don’t know, Brielle. Auntie Jen is having trouble remembering things—very _important_ things—and when she does, I don’t know what she’s going to want to do.”

Brielle nodded gravely.

“ _But_ ,” Adelaide said, cupping her daughter’s chin in her hand, “what I _do_ know, is that she loves you _very_ much, and that she would _never_ forget about you, or want to be away from you for very long.”

She released Brielle’s chin and leaned down so that she was closer to being on Brielle’s eye level, “Remember, Brielle, even if the mind forgets, the heart remembers.”

Brielle smiled at her mother, “I love Auntie Jen a lot.”

Adelaide kissed her forehead, “I know you do, Sweetness. I do too. But not _nearly_ as much as I love _you_.”

Brielle wrapped her arms around her neck, kissing her cheek, “I love you too, Momma.”

Adelaide hugged her back, holding her as tightly as she could without hurting her.

“Momma, will you sing my song for me?” Brielle asked tiredly as she let go of her mother to lie back against her pillow.

“Of course, baby girl, scoot on over for me,” Adelaide answered, as she turned slightly in her spot on the bed and kicked off her shoes. She climbed into the twin-sized bed, Brielle resting her head over Adelaide’s heart and Adelaide’s hand resting on her head, her fingers gently running through her hair. Once they were settled, she began to sing, “ _There’s a hand written note pressed in the door of her screened in porch…_ ”

* * *

Duke was sitting at the bar in the Fairmont by nine o’clock. He’d taken Holly’s advice and, after a burger dinner—Holly didn’t say a _healthy_ human being, she just said _a_ human being—stood under his shower with the hottest water possible and scrubbed himself pink trying to get himself to look more like a normal, functioning person. He’d changed into one of the last clean button-downs he owned, the solid gray one, and a pair of matching jeans. He’d shaved, removing the excess stubble that had cropped up outside of his moustache and goatee, and started to look closer to his usual self. As he’d reassembled himself, rubbing gel into his hands and then running them through his hair, he realized how much he’d let his living space go.

 _Jennifer’s gonna be so_ pissed _when she gets home_ , he’d thought as he stuffed his laundry into a bag to eventually be taken to a Laundromat.

A dangerous thing to think, in retrospect, as it only prompted him to remember how she’d reacted to him outside of the restaurant; _“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”_

That had made him pause in his work. He didn’t know much about the situation yet, but he _knew_ , before anything else, that the only reason she wouldn’t remember him would be because of something to do with that “Child of Ruin” bullshit from just before Jennifer opened that damn door.

 _“There is nothing that could ever make me go through that door and leave you._ Nothing _.”_

“Probably should’ve added an amnesia stipulation to that promise, Sweetheart,” he’d said to himself, rubbing his face.

His phone had rung shortly after that. It had been Dwight, asking what, if anything, Duke had found out.

“Here I thought you were trying to have plausible deniability about the whole thing, ‘Squatch,” Duke had commented, “Or did I misinterpret what you leaving the file on my boat and then promptly leaving before you could see me open it meant?”

“Like I said,” Dwight had responded, “She was too kind for the things that happened to her.”

Duke had sighed at that, “Right.”

“So. What have you found out?”

“How…” Duke had started to ask, before lowering his voice, “How _involved_ are Nathan and Audrey in this?”

“They aren’t.” Dwight had said, “Didn’t seem worth telling them until or unless I had something _to_ tell them.”

“Let’s keep it that way. At least for a little while longer.”

“Duke, _what_ did you find?” Dwight had asked again, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Duke had sighed before saying, “Yeah, ‘Squatch. It’s her.”

There had been a pause before Dwight started to ask, “How—?”

Duke shook his head, “No idea. Not _yet_ anyway. I’m meeting up with someone who claims to have answers later tonight.”

“Holy shit.” Was the only reply out of Dwight.

Duke had chuckled, “That about sums it up, yeah.”

“Wh—,” Dwight had started to say, before there was the faint sound of his office door opening, “I have to go,” Dwight had said quickly, “Keep me posted.”

“Mm.” Duke had replied, hanging up.

He’d left for the hotel shortly after that, and spent the better part of an hour dodging overly flirtatious women and a few men, and debating on ordering a drink. He finally settled on just ordering a glass of water and waiting it out; something told him he was going to need a clear head for whatever it was that Holly had to tell him. Whether or not he’d need a drink _after_ he learned everything remained to be seen, but he was almost positive that it was a _very_ real possibility.

He checked his watch for easily the sixtieth time since he sat down, when someone said to him, “What’cha drinkin’, Sailor?”  
He glanced to his right to see Holly sliding onto the stool next to him, smiling broadly. He smiled back at her, “If you’re buying, then something _much_ more expensive and much more alcoholic than this.”

Holly laughed as she hugged him. She was still wearing the dress from the restaurant, making Duke assume that she’d come straight here from there. As he hugged her back, he looked towards the walkthrough to the lobby, half hoping to see Jennifer standing nervously at the entrance to the bar.

Holly broke the embrace, sitting back and looking him over. She smiled at him, “Look at you. You clean up well.”

Duke just smirked, shrugging in response as she shifted on the stool next to him.

Holly looked at his hair, her brow furrowing even as she continued to smile, “You cut your hair. Jen’s gonna be _pissed_.”

“Yeah, that thought’s been occurring to me a lot lately.” Duke answered, his smile now edged with sadness.

There was a pause as Holly ordered a glass of red wine before he started to carefully ask, “Is…is she…?”

Holly patted his arm sympathetically, understanding his question before he could even get it out, “She’s not here, Duke. I took her home.”

 _Her home is on the Rouge_. “Where’s—?”  
“She’s living with her cousin right now.” Holly answered, seeming to know exactly what he was going to ask, “Doctors’ orders until they give her a clean bill of health,”

“What? Is she okay?” Duke asked, turning his whole body towards Holly. His confusion was evident, but so was the fact that he wanted to take off running in whatever direction he thought Jennifer was just to be with her. Doctors were one thing, but a cousin? Jennifer had told him that her little family was it—if there were cousins, why hadn’t they come looking for her? Why hadn’t _anyone_ come looking for her?

“Easy, Duke.” Holly said, holding up a placating hand as the bartender poured her glass for her, “She’s fine, everything’s fine.”

“ _Nothing_ is fine, Holly, she doesn’t _remember_ me.” Duke snapped back.

Holly narrowed her eyes at him, “Don’t you snap at _me_ , Crocker, _I’m_ the one trying to help you here.”

Duke sighed, turning back to the bar and placing his elbows on it. He rubbed his face with his hands, before apologizing, “I’m sorry Holly. I just don’t understand a single fucking _thing_ that’s happening.”

“Join the club.” Holly sighed, turning to the bar and taking a large drink of her wine, “So, should I go first or do you want to?”

He gave her a confused look, “Me?”

“Jennifer said that one of the things you said to her when you were… _beyond_ yourself, was that you asked her how she was alive. Care to elaborate on that since we both know the opposite to be true?” Holly asked.

Duke sighed, “It’s gonna sound crazy.”

Holly chuckled, “Son, ‘crazy’ seems to be the name of the game. Hit me.”

Duke sighed and began to explain what Troubled Haven had been like, what role Audrey had played for a long time, what the Barn was, how Jennifer’s presumed schizophrenia had really been her Trouble. He watched Holly’s reactions carefully as he tried to cover as much as he could—keeping the more grisly details to himself—before finally reaching the last showdown at the lighthouse.

“She closed the door, and then she…she collapsed. She wasn’t breathing and I…” Duke paused, gathering himself, and pushed on, “The lighthouse collapsed, I couldn’t find her and when I finally did she was…she was gone.”

A silence fell on them as Holly processed this information. Then, very quietly, and very angrily, she said, “She died. Jen _died_. When were you going to _tell_ me?”

Duke bowed his head, “Holly, I _meant_ to, honest to God. But—,”

“The Troubles, right?” Holly cut him off, no longer whispering, but trying her hardest not to be yelling, “And that Audrey-Mara-whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is person? _All_ of those things kept you from picking up a goddamn telephone to call me and tell me that she was _gone_?”

“I’m sorry.” He offered weakly.

“‘Sorry’?” She scoffed, “You’re fucking _sorry_? I’m the _only_ family she has!”

Duke flinched at Holly’s tone and her words. She was right, of course. He should have done something to let her know, “I know. I’m _sorry_ , Holly.”

She looked away from him, shaking her head, “Yeah, well, you fucking _should_ be.”

She seethed for a few minutes, refusing to even look at him, not that he blamed her—he wasn’t really his favorite person either right now. Just when he was starting to worry that she was going to tell him to leave, she finally looked to the ceiling and sighed, “But I forgive you.”

Duke glanced at her, his surprise evident, and she turned to look at him head on, “I forgive you. Mostly because that explains a _whole_ lot on my end, and because that’s what Jennifer would want.”

Duke nodded, mumbling, “Thank you.”

She waved him away, “Besides, I don’t suppose it matters now, since we both know she’s alive. And that _does_ explain your reaction to seeing her.”

Duke shifted on the stool nervously, “I scared her.”

Holly nodded, “Yes, but I think you did more good than you realize.”

Duke gave her a confused look as she took another drink of her wine. As she finished it, she smiled at him, “I guess it’s my turn, huh?”

Duke turned so he could look at her head on as she started, “It’s kind of hard to explain but here it goes: I seem to have two sets of memories.”

Duke laughed in shock, as Holly kept looking at him. Finally, realizing that Holly was serious, he said, “What?”

She laughed half-heartedly, “Oh no wait, it gets _more_ complicated. See, I remember Jennifer not having any family after her parents died, and I remember her being diagnosed with schizophrenia, and I remember her going to Haven, Maine under the pretense of looking for her birth parents. I even remember the Skype conversations we had while she was out there; all of that is _incredibly_ clear.”

She shifted on the stool, uncrossing and then re-crossing her legs, “But then I have this whole _other_ set of memories. I remember Jennifer having a cousin named Adelaide whose family owned a bookstore. I remember them being _very_ close, I remember meeting her after we got back from Europe, I remember meeting the man who would be her husband and the father of her daughter, I remember their wedding, hell, I even remember being there when her daughter was _born_.”

Holly paused, thinking, and took another drink of her wine, “I remember Desmond’s, Adelaide’s husband’s, illness and funeral, I remember her at my _own_ wedding, and I remember her being there through Jen’s mom’s illness and when she died. What’s really weird for me, though, is that I don’t…I don’t _feel_ those memories.”

“What do you mean?” Duke asked, the first thing he’d said since Holly started speaking.

“All these memories, they’re…they’re like pictures in a child’s storybook. I see them, I recognize them as something I should know, but I just…I don’t _feel_ them like I feel my memories of Adelaide _not_ being there.” She paused, looking into her wine glass but not seeming to be really looking at the contents, “It’s like someone sat me down and showed me image after image, going, ‘See? This happened, and then this. Remember this. Don’t worry about anything else, there is _only_ this.’”

There was a pause as Duke processed this information. Someone had not only altered Jennifer’s memories, but also the memories of the people who had been in her life prior to anything Haven related had happened to her. But _why_? Why do that? Why was Jennifer the only one who didn’t yet remember Adelaide _not_ being there? And where had they been keeping her for so long?

Holly finished her glass, “You should know that around the same time last year when my memory says that Jen was diagnosed with schizophrenia, I also remember her being in a sailing accident.”

Duke furrowed his brow at that, “Sailing accident?”

Holly nodded, “Yeah. She and a—a _friend_ from _The Globe_ went sailing one day, and she was distracted when the boom swung around and hit her square in the forehead. Knocked her out cold _and_ straight into the water. It took the guy a couple of minutes to realize what happened, but he got her out of the water and to the hospital as fast as he could.”

Duke had to keep reminding himself that this didn’t _actually_ happen, and yet he still couldn’t help but want to ask for the guy’s name so he could pay him a… _personal_ visit.

Holly eyed him, smirking as she seemed to be able to understand exactly what he was thinking, “If it makes you feel any better, Adelaide made such a fuss over potentially suing him and maybe even _The Globe_ that they fired him, and offered Jennifer an early retirement with a promise of a job once the doctors clear her for going back to work.”

Duke could only manage half a smile at that, causing Holly to sigh as she continued, “Since then, she’s been living with this ‘Cousin Adelaide’ at her bookstore in order to—,” she raised her hands to mime quotation marks as she continued, “—‘take it easy.’ At least, that’s what one of my memory sets says about the past year or more.”

“Where’s the bookstore?” Duke asked, seeming to only take the fact that Jennifer was staying in a bookstore away.

Holly reached into her wallet and pulled out a small business card with “Bouquin Bros. Used Bookstore,” as well as an address and telephone number written on it in typewriter font and placed it on the bar, sliding it over to him, “Everything you need to _eventually_ see Jennifer.”

Duke chuckled, “So I take it that taking this card and running to the address right this second is _not_ a good idea in your book?”

Holly grinned at him, “See, your voice is joking, but your eyes say that that is _exactly_ what you want to do.”

Duke chuckled again, studying the card for a moment and tapping its corner on the bar, before sighing, “Yeah.”

There was a brief pause before Duke felt confident enough to ask, “When…when do you think I _can_ see her again?”

Holly tilted her head to her right, considering it, before saying, “Give her some time. You spooked her pretty bad today.”

Duke nodded, suddenly feeling crestfallen but knowing that Holly was right. It was going to have to be enough, for now, that he knew she was alive and, for the moment, safe. Even if it wasn’t alive and safe with _him_.

Holly put her hand on his forearm, getting him to look at her, “But I think you knocked something loose in her today.”

“What do you mean?”

Holly grinned, “I think—now don’t hold me to this—but I _think_ she’s starting to remember you.”

Duke stared at Holly, a smile slowly spreading across his face and hope bubbling up in his chest, “Really?”

Holly’s grin broadened as she hopped off her stool, trying to shrug dismissively at him, “Like I said, though, don’t hold me to it.”

Duke grabbed her hand before she walked away. When she turned and looked at him, he said, “Thank you.”

She just smiled at him, giving his hand a squeeze, “Get some rest, Sailor, you’ve got a long stay in Boston ahead of you.”

Duke smiled and felt like, for the first time in a long time, that he’d be able to sleep a little easier tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare in question is pulled from a one shot written prior to this story called "On Nightmares and the Importance of Hot Chocolate."

The drive back to the Rouge was going to be a fairly calm one, at least compared to his earlier drive to and through the North End. It would be a short drive as well, and while Duke wanted to take Holly’s advice and get some rest, he also knew that he’d learned too much in the last twenty-four hours to sleep just yet. He decided, instead, to drive around the North End again, at least for a little while, just to give himself a chance to categorize everything that he’d learned.

Whether or not he ended up outside a certain bookshop that was housing a certain pretty brunette would be purely coincidental.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

He was still moderately surprised that Holly had forgiven him so quickly for not telling her that Jennifer had died. If he had been in her position, he doubted he would have done the same. But what could he have done? If he _had_ told Holly, she would’ve wanted to go to Haven to identify Jennifer and if she’d done _that_ , she would’ve been in the heart of what had gotten Jennifer killed in the first place, putting her in danger. Jennifer would never have forgiven him if something had happened to Holly.

Besides, at the time, he didn’t even have time to give Jennifer a proper burial…or really even have a body _to_ bury; after he’d identified her, there had been so much Trouble-related red tape to get through, that he never _actually_ saw her again.

Which brought him to the very simple yet groundbreaking discovery that Jennifer, _his_ Jennifer, was alive and in Boston. Even if she didn’t remember him, her being alive and not remembering him was still a marked improvement from her being dead and not even having a grave he could visit. Memory he could work with.

_“Long distance relationships are pretty hard.”_

Granted, he hadn’t meant “from the side of the living to the side of the dead” kind of long distance at the time, but he felt that his point still stood as he parked the truck about a block away from the darkened bookstore just as a light rain started to fall.

Okay, so the temptation to be close to her however he could had won out, but he tried to comfort himself with the fact that he planned on staying in the truck and was just… _checking_ on the place as a concerned citizen.

The store was tucked between an independent art gallery and an antique store, and had wide display windows, showing some of the more recent additions to the store. The bookshelves, or what he could see of them thanks to the streetlights illuminating the darkened store, went from floor to ceiling, making it almost claustrophobic, even from this vantage point.

Whoever it was that had brought Jennifer back, even if they had hidden her from him, seemed to know her well enough to know that she’d be happiest at a bookstore.

This thought, however, brought up a point he had been trying to put off considering. But as he was looking at the bookstore, it was the only thing he _could_ think about; was he being irredeemably selfish for wanting her back?

The obvious, albeit clearly rooted in self-loathing, answer was that yes, he _was_ being selfish in wanting her back. He was being selfish for wanting her in his arms, on his boat, and in his bed. He was being selfish for wanting to hear her sleep heavy voice tell him “good morning” and for wanting to see her drowsy smile. He was being selfish for wanting to be the one who held her after a nightmare and for wanting to be the one who got her to go back to sleep next to him. But mostly, he was being selfish for wanting to take her away from a place where she was clearly happy and where she didn’t have any memory of hearing voices or of thinking and being told she was crazy or of being attacked or of dying, and he was selfish for wanting to show her that all of that wasn’t true so that she’d be with him.

Jesus, why didn’t he just leave her _alone?_ So _what_ if her memories weren’t real? She was _safe_ and she was _happy_. Even if it wasn’t with him, isn’t that what he’d _wanted?_ He sighed, leaning back into the driver’s seat and staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to do or even think next, when he remembered something that the Buddha had once said.

_“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”_

The truth.

If nothing else, Jennifer was _owed_ the truth. And he wanted to give it to her, even if she hated him afterwards, and even if she didn’t want to ever see him again; she deserved to make her _own_ choice.

Okay. So that’d been decided, but now it was figuring out _who_ had taken Jennifer, where’d they’d been keeping her, and why it was only _now_ that people were seeing any signs of her being alive. Was it to keep her safe from Mara? But then why leave her with her memories altered like they were, now that Mara—and related parties—was dealt with? And why not let her go back to Haven now that everything was over? And just who the hell was this Adelaide woman and how did she fit into it all?

He sighed again, rubbing his face with his hands before putting them back on the steering wheel, and looked back towards the store. As he registered what he was seeing, he froze.

Jennifer was standing by the door, looking out at the street, and holding a mug of something. She was wearing her dark gray sweatpants and her purple Emerson t-shirt. Her hair was rumpled from sleeping, and her eyes looked puffy, as if she had been crying, but it was hard to tell in the harsh yellow light of the streetlight.

She must’ve had a nightmare.

And there wasn’t someone to wake up with her, to calm her down, to listen to her talk about her nightmare as she made hot chocolate.

It took everything in him not to get out of his truck, cross the street, _maybe_ break through the door, and just…God just _hold_ her. She looked tired and sad and confused and it was _maddening_ that he couldn’t do anything for her.

“What’re you doin’ up, Short Stack?” he asked her figure, leaning lightly against the steering wheel. She looked so much smaller than he remembered her, but perspective and time would do that.

She was looking up and down the street, and her mouth was moving slightly. Maybe she was singing to herself like she did sometimes when she was trying to comfort herself, probably _Not in Nottingham,_ if he remembered right. Or maybe she was just talking to herself like she did more often than “sometimes.”

Something caught her attention to her left, and she turned to look at it, shifting her mug to her right hand, and giving him the slightest better look at it. It was strange, but even in the harsh light of the streetlight, it almost looked like her bright yellow, horribly ‘80s mug, which couldn’t be possible because it was still on the Rouge.

Just like the pajamas she was wearing.

“Wait a minute.” Duke said as the realization hit him. Everything Jennifer had with her right now were things that he’d locked away on the Rouge. She shouldn’t have them.

Unless…

Duke started the truck and headed back to the dock and the Rouge. He was speeding to the point of reckless driving, but luckily for him, it seemed like any cop that could’ve done anything about it was preoccupied elsewhere. He’d barely parked and turned off the truck before he was out of it, rushing onto the Rouge. He ran to her door, testing the handle. It was still locked, just as he’d left it, only deepening his confusion and agitation. He used his keys to unlock the door and let it swing open.

“Son of a _bitch_.” He growled as he looked around the now empty room. It was devoid of _any_ evidence that Jennifer had ever been there. He ran his hands through his hair as he surveyed the room.

It was all gone. Her quilt on the bed, the box of random things from her birth parents’ house, the articles of clothing she’d left on the bed, the small stack of books she’d had next to her mattress, hell, even her _scent_ ; it was just all _gone._ In a sudden fit of paranoia, he pulled out his cellphone and pulled up the pictures he had. He let out a sigh of relief; whatever they were capable of, they hadn’t taken his pictures of him and Jennifer from him.

It was pictures from the birthday they spent together; the photo he had up was from after he placed the cake on the table in front of her and she was grinning broadly at him over the glow of the candles on the cake.

She was so happy.

He closed out of the pictures, pocketing his phone, and closed the door to what had been her room, relocking it out of habit and stubbornness. He stalked around the Rouge, checking everywhere he could think of that someone would plant something to monitor his movements or even his conversations. When his search came up empty (he didn’t even find a suspicious looking barnacle on the side of the boat), he went back to his room, locking the door behind him.

He sat on the edge of his bed before falling back on it, being careful not to disturb the side of the bed to his right; where she used to sleep. He pulled out his phone again, and pulled his pictures back up, trying to quell the rage that was bubbling up in him.

After the first picture of her glowing in the light of her birthday candles, there was a series of pictures of her blowing out the candles, and then cutting the cake, until he came to his favorite picture from that day. It was of the two of them, with cake smeared across their faces, both beaming like fools at the camera. It had started because he had made some joke about how he had _slaved_ over that cake so she had better save him some. This caused her to think that, well if it was so good, it’d be a shame if it was wasted, and before he could even _blink_ she’d smashed some of it all over his face. A mild food fight had broken out between them, and by the end of it they were both wearing most of the cake, but she was smiling so big and had laughed so hard, it didn’t really matter.

“Happy Birthday, Short Stack.” He’d said, kissing her and smearing more of the cake on their faces.

She had laughed at him, “Easily the best birthday I’ve had in a _long_ time.”

There’d been a pause, as he’d wiped off some of the cake from his face, when she’d look at him, still grinning and said, “I don’t think I can remember the last time I was _this_ happy.”

And they had come and taken her, any _trace_ of her, away from that.

Away from _him._

Whoever, _what_ ever they were, and whatever they were capable of, Duke thought as he closed out of his pictures, they just made themselves one _hell_ of an enemy.

* * *

Once Jennifer got back to the shop, she had been elated to see her possessions from the storage unit on the counter, albeit a bit confused by the box and it’s contents. Little John had come right up to her, tail wagging at top speed as she smiled at him and gave him a good pet session, even as she continued to glance at the items on the counter. Once Little John seemed appropriately loved on, he went back to lie on the couch while she looked through the box. She didn’t recognize any of the items within it, but she chalked it up to just another bout of incompetence on the part of the storage company. Honestly, were they even _trying_ at this point? She did think, however, that Brielle would love the purple haired Troll doll. She pulled it out and put it on the shelf behind the counter to give to her tomorrow.

She glanced, momentarily, at the book on the counter; some sort of trashy vampire-romance that she vaguely remembered being a big deal a few years ago. She left it where it was, thinking that maybe Adelaide had been reading it and unthinkingly left it on the counter, and hoped to catch Adelaide trying to hide it from her the next day.

She locked the store front doors behind her before she started rummaging through the bag. Her quilt was there, folded neatly, and so were a few articles of clothing that she had missed. She found her dad’s gaudy, yellow, _Will Someone Please Shoot The Computer?!_ coffee mug wrapped in his sweater, and took it into the kitchenette, stashing it in a cabinet for later. She went back out to the main floor of the shop and hitched her bag over her shoulder. She decided to leave the box out for her and Adelaide to look through tomorrow, positive that there were probably a few “treasures” in it that Adelaide would want to salvage. She let the sweater fold over her hands as she clicked her tongue for Little John to follow her back to her room. He ambled off the couch once again, stretching at first, before trotting along behind her. She held the door to her room open for him as he leapt onto the bed. As he made himself comfortable on the right hand side of the bed, Jennifer kicked the door closed, placed the bag on the floor by the trunk at the foot of her bed before sitting on the edge of it, kicking off her shoes, and finally looked at the sweater.

Even though it still looked like a strange combination of other sweaters, with its blue body, green sleeves, and tan elbow patches, it was still the most comforting thing she owned. She held the sweater up to her nose and smelled it, as she usually did when she’d been away from it for a while. Her father’s scent had long since disappeared from the fabric, but sometimes she liked to think that she could still, just barely, smell him there.

That was not the case this time. She smelled the sweater and was hit with the scent of the sea, of salt water and metal, and of a cologne that made the throb come back.

Jennifer took a deep breath away from the sweater, studying it carefully. Where the hell had they been _keeping_ her stuff? Another throb, like a wave, pushed against the back of her eyes, pulling her attention back to it.

After she had told Holly about the throbs, Holly told her to keep pushing.

“The next time you get one of those throbs, Jen, I want you to _push_ on it until it becomes clear.” Holly had said, her tone severe.

Jennifer had chewed her lip, “But it…”

“I know. I know it hurts, but you _gotta_ push on them so you can remember.”

“But _what_ am I remembering? Just because a door _can_ be opened, Holly, doesn’t mean it _should_ be.” She’d surprised herself there; as a journalist, all she did was open locked or closed doors, it was part of the job description. Even outside of her former career, however, she’d loved finding what no one else could; it was just in her nature.

 _What has opening doors like this ever done for me?_ She’d refused to follow that thought, though.

Holly had sized her up for a moment before saying, “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life telling yourself that the memories that are _constantly_ just barely out of your reach _aren’t_ important?”

Jennifer sighed as she looked down at the sweater in her lap, “No. I don’t.”

Little John crawled carefully over to her, sniffing at the sweater, tail wagging contentedly. He looked up at her, expectantly.

She patted his head, “Just give me a minute, Buddy. I know what I promised you, but this…this is _important_.”

Little John shifted closer to her, placing his head on her shoulder. She brushed her head against his, an old habit from when he’d first reached this size and would often rest his head on her shoulder when they sat like this, and closed her eyes for a moment, just focusing on the feeling of his fur on her forehead. Eventually, she looked back at the sweater and took a calming breath before she held the sweater up to her nose to take a deep breath.

The pain in her head was excruciating, suddenly going from a subtle unpleasant throb to making it feel as if it was going to split open, but Jennifer pushed back against it. The small part of her from earlier seemed to be shouting now, trying to be heard over the throb and the roar in her ears, and telling her that the cologne belonged to someone incredibly important to her, someone that made her happy, someone that she _loved_. It tried to show her the image from earlier, but it was still too shrouded in confusion to be clear.

It was like she was remembering parts of a dream: all scattershot and unclear. She saw and remembered a boat but not the name of it, a computer with the feeling of Holly coming from it, something about waffles, and there was a whisper of a thought about Amsterdam; but she didn’t see the whole that all these pieces made, just the battered individual parts that didn’t make sense. What _was_ clear was that she felt warmth and safety and trust and a promise that filled her up to the point that she thought her heart would break.

_“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”_

It was the same voice from when she’d been playing with Brielle, but it was clearer, if only slightly, and she was struck with a recent familiarity to it; it was if she had heard the voice even more recently and somewhere else other than her head. It was still muddled, though, as if it were the recording of an echo of an echo.

But _who?_ Who was this “someone” that was so damn important and whose voice she was hearing? The pain in her head was making her nauseous and was enough to threaten to cause her to lose consciousness, but she wanted to keep pushing.

The pain was roaring over the sound of the small part of her that was trying to talk to her and she wanted to push until she couldn’t anymore, telling herself over and over again, “This is important.”

Little John’s cry next to her pulled her out of her mind before the part of her that seemed to know what was going on could answer her questions.

 _Gray_. That was all she got. Gray and…seagulls?

She opened her eyes, suddenly aware of how desperate Little John’s cries had gotten, as well as a pounding that was coming from somewhere other than her head.

“Jennifer?” A panicked voice was yelling from the other side of her door in between loud _thumps_ against it, “Jennifer talk to me, Little John’s cries are freaking me out. Jennifer!”

Jennifer stood up carefully, her knees feeling like Jell-O, and walked to the door.

“I’m coming!” She called to the door, her voice weak and shaking, as Little John bounded off the bed after her, sniffing at her and still whimpering. She placed what she wanted to be a placating hand on his head and ended up leaning into him as she reached for the door handle. She opened the door to see Adelaide in long-sleeved gray shirt that she vaguely registered as one of Desmond’s old shirts and a pair of blue pajama pants but it was either too dark or her head was still trying to reassemble itself for her to register anything else about them other than their color.

She tried to smile at her cousin, “Hi.”

Adelaide gave her an incredulous look, “‘Hi’? I come down here because it sounds like Little John’s being _gutted_ , I’ve been _pounding_ on your door for, like, five _minutes_ , you’re as pale as a _sheet_ , and all you have to say for yourself is ‘ _hi_ ’?”

Jennifer shifted nervously, trying to stand on her own though Little John only moved closer to her, and still tried to smile reassuringly at Adelaide, “You’re really pretty?”

Adelaide made a disbelieving noise in the back of her throat before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Very slowly, she opened her eyes again and said, “Care to _actually_ explain what’s going on down here?”

“Um. Funny story—true story—uh, you know how I…I promised Little John a walk before I left? Well, I guess I was taking too long to get ready to go so he started throwing a fit, but, uh, I’m fine.” Jennifer lied quickly; trying to put off explaining to her cousin her memory throbs just yet.

Little John looked up at her and if a dog’s face could portray betrayal, that’s the look he was giving her. Adelaide, on the other hand, was looking at her in blatant disbelief as she said, “Jennifer Mason, you have _got_ to be _the_ worst liar I have _ever_ met.”

Jennifer smiled nervously, “I’ll have to tell Holly you said that; she claims she was the one who ‘finally taught me how to lie.’”

“If you paid for that service, I’d demand your money back.” Adelaide smirked as she crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her right leg, “C’mon, Short Stack, what’s going on.”  
Jennifer shifted, still smiling nervously, “You know you’re actually the second person to call me that today?”

Adelaide arched an eyebrow at her, but stayed quiet as she waited for Jennifer to tell her what was going on.

Jennifer sighed, rubbing her forehead. She scratched Little John between his shoulders, as she stood up straighter, no longer needing to lean on him, and tried to explain herself to her cousin, “I was…I was trying to _remember_ something and it was making my head hurt pretty badly and I think Little John knew that I was in pain so he started freaking out. I’m _really_ sorry he woke you up, but it was just—,”

“It was important.” Adelaide finished for her, nodding her head.

Jennifer gave her a shocked look, “Yeah.”

Adelaide nodded again, keeping her silence as she let herself get lost in her thoughts for a moment, before shrugging at Jennifer and saying, “If you _do_ decide to take Little John for a walk, make sure to ask Joshua to go with you; just for my own sanity.”

Jennifer stared at her in disbelief, “Aren’t you going to ask what—?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Adelaide said over her shoulder, “Be safe. Sleep well.”

“Uh,” Jennifer stammered, “you too.”

As Adelaide disappeared around a bookshelf, waving back at her, Jennifer looked down at Little John who was looking up at her excitedly, “You got anything to add to what just happened here?”

Little John hopped up slightly and licked her face earning a mockingly disgusted groan from Jennifer as he went back to standing on all fours next to her. She changed into the dark gray sweatpants that were in the bag brought by the storage unit people and threw on her dad’s sweater over her old purple Emerson t-shirt. She grabbed a pair of tennis shoes from her tiny closet, and pocketed her cellphone and keys as she grabbed Little John’s leash from a hook by her door. Little John’s tail was wagging ecstatically as she turned to look at him. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor, signaling Little John to sit. Once he did, she clicked leash to his collar and walked with him to the storefront.

Gray seagulls. What did that have to do with the figure? What did that have to do with _anything_ for that matter?

As she turned to lock the store behind her, a voice down the street called out, “Want some company?”  
She sighed as Joshua approached her, though she was moderately grateful for the distraction, “I take it Adelaide called you?”

Joshua smiled as Little John tugged on his leash to greet him. Joshua scratched Little John’s head, “Were _you_ going to?”

Jennifer just sighed again as she tugged lightly on Little John’s leash, leading him up the street as Joshua fell into step to her right, “I don’t know why she thinks I need an escort; I used to walk Little John by myself all the time, no matter the time of day.”  
Joshua smirked at her, burying his hands into his pea coat, “I’ll make sure that _that_ doesn’t make it into my report back to her.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Joshua, but I happen to walk a very large, menacing looking dog—not too many people are willing to risk their own safety to talk to me so long as I have this behemoth with me.”

She patted Little John’s side as she finished her point, earning an appreciative head turn and light grunt from the “behemoth” in question.

Joshua chuckled, “Look at my presence as a guarantee that _no one_ will talk to you—I mean, honestly, who wants to talk to the little lady with a Great Dane _and_ a big hulking black guy walking with her?”

Jennifer arched her eyebrow at him speculatively and made a point of eyeing his rather lanky frame, earning a shrug from him as he conceded, “Okay, so maybe not ‘ _hulking_ ’.”

She giggled briefly before she sighed at him, “Honestly, Joshua, you don’t have to do this, I’m sure there are more interesting things for a 27 year old to be doing on a Friday night.”

“You must be thinking of a 27 year old who _wasn’t_ already home on a Friday night when his neighbor called him asking to walk with her cousin who insisted on walking her dog in the middle of the night.” Joshua retorted, grinning broadly at her.

She made a face at him, “It is _not_ the middle of the night.”

Joshua just laughed.

He was always quieter around Brielle than he was around her or even Adelaide, and Jennifer was pretty sure that it had something to do with the fact that he was sure everything he did and said near Brielle was going to influence her for the rest of her life, so he was always on his best behavior around her. Granted, the fact that Adelaide had also _told_ him as much probably did not help his slight paranoia at being on his best behavior around the six year old.

Still, to Jennifer he was always going to be Holly’s little brother and that would always make him the nervous ten year old who would sometimes annoy them when they were hanging out.

“Oh!” She gasped as a new thought occurred to her, “I completely forgot to lecture Holly about not getting in touch with you today!”

Joshua laughed, “Don’t worry about it, I texted her shortly after I left Adelaide’s earlier today; we’re figuring out if she’s going to stay with me for part of her month long sabbatical in our great city or if she’ll just stay at the Fairmont on Battery Wharf.”

Jennifer grinned as Little John stopped to sniff a pole, “Nothing says ‘fun’ like having your big sister sharing your swingin’ bachelor’s pad.”

Joshua just chuckled, rolling his eyes at her, and let a silence fall over them briefly. Jennifer looked around at the lights still on in some of the buildings, wondering what was going on in those rooms. When she had first moved from the suburbs to the dorms at Emerson, she was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people around her, and one of the ways she took to coping with that baffling number, was to give the people she saw on the street and through her window at the dorm stories. It’d been a long time since she’d been on a walk or had the opportunity to tell herself stories about the people around her.

Some birds suddenly took flight down the street from where they were walking, startling Jennifer and making her jump slightly. Joshua chuckled at her, while Jennifer blushed slightly at her own skittishness and mumbled, “Stupid gulls.”

 _The Gray Gull_.

It flashed before her eyes so quickly and so suddenly, she staggered back slightly; a bar on the waterfront, a loft she’d been using, a damn fine margarita, orange juice, a cut on her finger. Voices, her own among them; all overlapping, all saying different things, but all seeming to belong to the same handful of people: _“Isn’t it cool that your brother owns a bar?” “You’re the one who keeps saying I’m not crazy, that I’m—,” “You know you didn’t have to toss those. You could’ve given them to me; for recreational purposes.”_ _“You look fantastic.” “Stay. I don’t care that the—is gone,”_ _“It’s my bar; narc.”_ _“You kissed me.” “You kissed me back.”_ _“You should have a will too, especially in—,”_

“Jen? You okay? How’re you feeling?” Joshua asked as he turned to her and crouched slightly, trying to catch her eye, as Little John tugged on the leash to continue down the block, apparently unaware of his mistress’s shift.

At the sound of Joshua’s voice, Jennifer came back to herself; everything that had flashed in her mind disappearing, as if she’d been woken from a dream. The images that had flashed in front of her disappeared from her mind, leaving only the after-image of them, like the shadows of people left after a nuclear explosion. The voices were what made her pause. She recognized her own, and the voice that had been popping up more (this time clearer than it had ever been; it almost sounded like that friend of Holly’s she’d met earlier that day—the transporter), but it was as if someone had gone through and cut out things from what had been said.

She shook herself; trying to piece all of that together _now_ wasn’t going to help anyone, especially if Joshua _was_ going to make some sort of report back to Adelaide. She finally looked at him. Tomorrow. That’s what Adelaide had said. _Just keep the details to yourself until tomorrow,_ Jennifer thought, as she sighed at him, “Is there anyone I’m going to see today that’s _not_ going to ask me that?”

They turned the corner to the block as Joshua chuckled, glancing at her like he didn’t quite believe that that was the problem but letting it go for now, “What can I say? You’ve got a community of concerned citizens on your side.”

She smirked, “Worrywart wardens, more like.”

Joshua gave her a confused look but she waved him away. After a moment, Jennifer sighed, rubbing her forehead with the hand that wasn’t keeping a tight hold on the part of the leash that was near Little John’s collar. _The Gray Gull,_ she repeated in her mind. Even if everything else that came with the name went away, at least _that_ stayed. She was surprised that a throb didn’t accompany the flashes. In fact, she didn’t feel any pain at all as she recalled the flashes. She felt… _good_.

“In answer to your question, though, I’m…” she started, trying to find the right words to tell him what, exactly, she was.

She paused, and then let out a heartbroken laugh as she realized: “I don’t _know_ what I am.”

Joshua placed a nervous hand on her shoulder, “Jen?”

She looked at him and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, “Josh.”

They turned left again, walking parallel to the street that the bookstore was on, as Jennifer tried to gather how she wanted to explain herself. Joshua pulled his hand back, depositing it back into his coat pocket. She fidgeted briefly, feeling agitated at herself that she was making Joshua feel as if she didn’t trust him. It wasn’t that she didn’t, of course, but it was so similar to the situation she’d found herself in with Holly at the restaurant: How was she even going to _begin_ to explain herself to Joshua when she didn’t even really understand it herself? What the hell was _happening_ to her?

She decided to tell him _something._

“I…I told Holly about this tonight, but…I’ve…I’ve been getting these, um, _throbs_ right behind my eyes,” Jennifer said, keeping her eyes on Little John, “They come up when I…when I start to, um…”

She sighed, pausing briefly as Little John sniffed another pole, and tried again, “I’m starting to get these, like, memory flashes.”

Joshua gave her a confused look, “Memory flashes?”  
She shrugged, “Or at least, that’s what I’m calling them; I’m not really sure. Either what they mean or what they are. There are just these times when they pop up and they make my head hurt, but…”

She let a silence fall as they turned back towards the bookstore, unsure of what else to tell him and also feeling as if she’d said too much already. Joshua kept glancing at her, trying to gauge what to say or do next.

“You said Holly knows?” Joshua asked carefully.

Jennifer nodded. Little John glanced at her, panting happily.

“What did Holly say? To do about the flashes, I mean?” Joshua asked, watching her.

Jennifer smirked, “Exactly what you’d expect; to push on them until I know.”

Joshua chuckled as they got near the store, “Yeah. That’s pretty much exactly what I’d expect.”

Jennifer smiled back as she unlocked the store door and as he continued, “But, you know, I don’t know if I agree.”

She gave Joshua a confused look, holding the door open and letting Little John into the store. Joshua’s expression was serious as he said, “It’s just that…well, a door once opened can go both ways.”

Jennifer studied Joshua as his expression lightened again and he smiled back at her, nodding towards her in a slight bow as he said, “Anyway. Always a pleasure, Ms. Mason. Rest well.”

With that, Joshua turned around and headed back to the art gallery next door, where his apartment was. She ducked back into the bookstore, locking the door again behind her, incredibly confused by what Joshua had said. Little John looked at her, tail wagging and head cocked.

“Got anything to say to that?” She asked him as he trotted back up to her and sniffed at her hand so she’d pet him and take his leash off of him. _What is up with doors today?_ She wondered briefly, before shaking her head; it’d been too long of a day to follow that thought down its rabbit hole. She smiled at Little John, scratching behind his ears and getting them to flap against his head, before taking his leash off of him and sending him in the direction of her room, a command he obediently followed. Jennifer took in the store for a moment; the bookcases, the glow from the lamp in the corner by her room, the threadbare formerly floral print couch next to her, the small kitchenette behind the counter, the scent of old binding glue and equally old paper; all these things that had become home to her over the passed year.

She felt safe there, tucked away between other people’s stories, but a thought occurred to her that surprised her, _I don’t want to be here._

And it scared her how true it was. She didn’t want to be there, but she didn’t know where else she wanted to, or even could, be. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Something in her wanted to be on the boat she’d caught glimpses of when she’d pushed against the throb in her head earlier. But she didn’t even know where it was or if it was even _real_.

 _The Gray Gull_ , though.

 _That_ seemed real enough, and as she considered the after-image flashes in her mind, and even the almost-Duke-like voice that had come with them, she found herself longing for it. Maybe she should call Holly tomorrow, just to see if she knew anything about a bar by that name, and if it had any connection to her friend who seemed so convinced he knew her. And if the after-images were to be believed, she apparently knew him too.

She shook her head at herself (speaking of thoughts that weren’t worth following down their rabbit hole tonight) before she headed back to her room, calling a quiet “goodnight” up the stairs to Adelaide and Brielle as she walked passed. There was a faint light coming from somewhere behind the beaded curtain; probably Adelaide getting her “report” from Joshua. She could hear the white noise machine in Brielle’s room, letting her know that she was already asleep.

There was nothing to be done now about a potentially real restaurant tonight, and she felt foolish and near treasonous for thinking that she didn’t want to be there, at the bookshop. _This_ was her home, she tried to tell herself, but even as she tried to believe it, she knew it wasn’t completely true; “home” was far and away, and it had been that way for a long time.

She kicked her door closed with her heel as she pulled off the sweater, tossing it next to the bed. She pulled her cellphone and keys out of her pockets and set them back into her purse next to the bed. She undid her bra and slid it out from under her shirt, tossing it towards her closet, and climbed into bed next to Little John who only lifted his head at her before settling back in, sighing heavily. Something about the ritual felt incomplete, as if something—some _one_?—was missing, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it; a feeling she was starting to become very familiar with. She sighed to herself; she _would_ call Holly tomorrow, she decided, curling up on her left side towards Little John, and closing her eyes.

Sleep came quickly, though it was not kind.

She had a nightmare, one that she felt she’d had before, about a forest green room like the one she was staying in, and about just _knowing_ there was an evil with her that she had to keep in that room with her. She tried to tell someone who was acting like a therapist—a blonde woman with a nose ring—about it but the therapist didn’t really believe her. She remembered thinking that she was supposed to be her friend; why was she doing this?

She tried to tell the blonde woman not to open the door, to not let the evil out, but she didn’t listen and opened the door to leave Jennifer in that room. The evil got to her, making her lock Jennifer in that forest green room, and saying things over some sort of intercom system. She didn’t know what was being said to her, but she knew what came next; the doors. Suddenly all four walls of the green room had doors, some right next to each other, some not; doors that wouldn’t open, some that would with others behind them that were locked—like adjoining hotel rooms. And no matter how hard she pounded, no matter how loudly she yelled—and she yelled to the point of near voicelessness—the same thoughts kept repeating in her head over and over again:

_No one hears me._

_No one cares._

_I’m never getting out of this room._

Another voice, underneath the broken record of her panic, said that she should wake up now.

The dream should be over now, why wasn’t she waking up? She needed to wake up, he was going to be so worried if she didn’t wake up, _why wasn’t she waking up?_

She kept pounding against the doors, going from screaming, “Let me out!” to “Let me wake up!”

“Let me wake up! _Please!_ Let me wake up, he _needs_ me! Let me wake up!”

Another voice was coming through now.

No.

Not “another” voice.

 _The_ voice.

It was saying her name, and it sounded desperate and lost and _scared_.

_Jennifer? Jennifer! She’s not breathing. Jennifer! Wake up! Jennifer, wake up! Jennifer! Jen--!_

She shot up in her bed, Little John starting up with her and jumping off the bed. He looked at her, tail wagging and whimpering at her. She took a few breaths, trying to get herself to stop shaking, and pressed her hands to her neck, entwining her fingers behind her neck. She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to make herself smaller to try to control the panic that was filling up her stomach and chest, thinking that if she were smaller that would make the panic smaller, right? Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her stomach felt like she’d spent the better part of the day at an amusement park. She felt scared and trapped, like she was still trapped in that room. Sobs were fighting for space in her throat, making it feel raw, though no sound came out. She rocked back and forth on the bed for a moment and tried to breathe around the constriction of her throat, whimpering gently as it was the only sound that could fight its way out of her mouth.

She got the feeling there should be someone next to her, in Little John’s spot; that someone should be there to touch her neck and to comfort her.

There it was again.

_Should be._

Little John leaned against the bed, whimpering again, pulling her out of her thoughts. She sniffed, trying to straighten herself out and to breathe normally, as she reached a shaking hand to him and touched his head, “I’m…” she coughed, clearing her throat and tried again, “I’m okay, buddy. I’m gonna be okay.”

She climbed out of her bed, hands still shaking and knees weaker than she would’ve preferred, and opened her door. She scrubbed at her face as she headed for the kitchenette and her mug.

Hot chocolate.

Hot chocolate would help.

Just like it always did.

Little John followed after her, sticking close enough so that she felt his nose press against her arm. Once in the kitchenette and once the mug was in her hands, she realized she was shaking too hard to make hot chocolate the way that her dad had usually done it; warming the milk in a saucepan and then carefully pouring it into the mug. Little John sat near the fridge, staying close without crowding her out and watching her work. As she poured the milk into the mug, she quietly apologized to her dad and set the mug in the microwave. She spoke quietly to herself as she worked; trying to tell herself she was talking to Little John, and recounted the dream to make it seem less real.

Doors again. Not too surprising, given that that was kind of the theme of the day, a _weird_ theme, but a theme nonetheless. But why did the room she had been trapped in seem so similar to her room here? She had been feeling a bit trapped lately, she was willing to admit that, but why the therapist? The only time she remembered ever seeing a therapist was shortly after her father died, but that had been more of a grief counselor, and it certainly hadn’t been anyone who looked like _that_. Yet, somehow, the woman acting as the therapist was definitely familiar to her—even her voice had seemed incredibly familiar to her. In fact, the dream _itself_ seemed familiar, as if she’d had it before. She certainly didn’t _remember_ having the dream before tonight, but if the events of the day had proven anything to her, it was that she apparently couldn’t _trust_ her own memory. She shook her head at herself, stopping that train of thought before it could inspire all it’s worrisome thought seeds to sprout in her mind and before she was going to need something much stronger than hot chocolate to deal with it; it was just a dream, and moreover, it was a _done_ dream.

“The nightmare only gets power if _I_ give it,” She said to herself as she finished recounting the dream; repeating what her father had often told her when she was done talking about nightmares.

She found a box of hot chocolate mix near the coffee maker; probably something Adelaide had grabbed for her the last time she went grocery shopping. As she pulled out a spoon from the drawer, Jennifer remembered, vaguely, how once, when she was little, Adelaide had been staying at their house when Jennifer had had a nightmare.

She had tried not to wake her up as she went to her parents’ room, but there was very little that Adelaide didn’t notice or know. As she and her father had gone down to the kitchen, Adelaide had followed after, keeping quiet as she climbed into the chair next to her, and had let Jennifer talk about her nightmare. When Jennifer started getting panicky recounting the dream, Adelaide had held her hand, not saying anything but still trying to help. When they had gotten back to her room, Adelaide had climbed into bed next to her, saying, “They won’t get you if I’m with you. I know how to fight them.”

It became something she started to rely on and believe. Adelaide spent so much time fighting everyone else in the real world, why wouldn’t she know how to fight the monsters in Jennifer’s head? She smiled weakly as she poured the mix into the mug, stirring it, “Adelaide always knows.”

Once she was satisfied with the mixture, she walked out to look out the storefront windows at the street. It had started to rain lightly, making the light of the streetlamps seem somehow contained in the droplets that were falling from the sky. There were a few cars parked up and down the street; probably people who didn’t know about the parking limits.

There was a pale colored truck about a block down that looked vaguely familiar, but she didn’t have the energy to push on it.

She took a drink from her mug, still studying the rainy street, and started humming _Not in Nottingham_ to herself; a habit she had gotten into because it had been something her mom would sing to her when she was starting to feel like the world was getting too heavy.

“ _Every town has its ups and downs. Sometimes the ups outnumber the downs. But not in Nottingham._ ” She sang quietly.

She took another drink as Little John came to sit next to her and as she reached the end of the song, “ _Can't you see the tears we're cryin'? Can't there be some happiness for me? Not in Nottingham._ ”

Little John was calm for a moment; seeming to survey the street with Jennifer, when something caught his eye and he immediately went back to standing on all fours, tail wagging erratically. He glanced from Jennifer to the street, and scratched at the door, whimpering quietly. He was acting as if he saw someone he _knew_ outside and wanted to go greet them before they even made it to the shop.

“ _Sh_ , Little John,” Jennifer whispered at him, shifting the mug to her right hand and placing her left on his head. She glanced towards the spiral stairs, hoping that Little John’s whimpering wouldn’t wake Adelaide again, before she looked back down the street, trying to find what had gotten Little John all worked up.

The only difference she could discern was that the pale truck was now gone. She shifted nervously from foot to foot and scratched his head, “No one’s there, buddy.”

He whined again, tail stopping it’s wagging, and looked up at her in disappointment. She took another, final drink from her mug and patted his shoulder, “I’m sorry, bud. C’mon, let’s go back to bed. Tomorrow will be here before we know it.”

She turned from the door and headed back towards her room. After another heartbroken whine at the door, Little John followed her.  

* * *

Joshua’s phone buzzed in his pocket seconds after he made it back up to his apartment. “Swingin’ bachelor’s pad” Jennifer had called it, but she couldn’t be more wrong. The apartment was simple in design, and fairly neat. The walls were a tan color—the same color they had been when he had first moved in—with a few pictures of him, Holly, and their parents hanging sparsely on the walls. He pulled off his pea coat, and tossed it over the arm of the couch. He didn’t look at who was calling him as he answered his phone, “Yes, Adelaide?”

“And what did you learn?” the voice on the other end asked as he sank into his couch.

“Your suspicions were correct,” he sighed in response, leaning back into the cushions, “she’s starting to remember things.”

“Anything specific?” Adelaide asked simply.

Joshua shook his head, “She didn’t say. Just that she was getting these ‘memory flashes’ and that Holly had told her to push on them so she could remember more.”

Adelaide tsked her tongue on the other end, “She’ll hurt herself if she keeps doing that.”

Joshua rubbed his eyes with his left hand, “Right. Are we still sure that it’s a good idea for her to be pushing _at all_? A door once opened—,”

“Can go both ways.” Adelaide finished on the other end, “I was the one who taught you that, remember?”

Joshua sighed, his agitation threatening to get the better of him but he quelled it—if there was one thing he knew about Adelaide, it was that she did not respond _well_ to snappishness, “And yet my point still stands.”

Adelaide sighed back, “Josh, this isn’t about what _we_ think or what _we_ want. It’s always been about _her_. It’s about letting her make her _own_ choices.”

Joshua leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, “I know that; believe me, I really do. But the other side’s getting…nervous, especially since that Crocker guy showed up.”

She laughed, “ _Nervous_? They had someone go onto his _boat_ and remove every _trace_ of her from it. That doesn’t say ‘ _nervous_ ’ to me, that—that says that they’re poking the bear.”

“You think they’re _that_ self-assured?” Joshua asked in disbelief.

“ _I_ think that they think that since Haven’s no longer a Trouble spot, that the threat that Duke Crocker poses has somehow been lessened.” Adelaide replied.

“You seem to think otherwise.” Joshua noted, rubbing his neck.

“I think that Duke Crocker was dangerous _long_ before he realized his family’s legacy and that there is nothing on God’s green earth that will keep him and Jennifer Mason apart.” Adelaide replied matter-of-factly, “It’s been, what, a _year_ since she died? And at the slightest _hint_ that that could be different, he just abandons his plans to finally leave everything that that town has ever done to him behind just to…just to what, _check_? And then she meets him for a second—a _second_ , Joshua—not knowing who he is or what he is to her, and that’s enough for her to want to _push_ for answers? Are you trying to tell me that that _doesn’t_ sound like some goddamn determination on both their parts?”

“How did he even _find_ her anyway? I mean, aside from basically altering part of reality—which I’m still struggling to really wrap my mind around by the way—they changed her phone, they stashed her car, they altered Internet records, they changed her credit cards; wait, weren’t the cards they gave her technically listed under _your_ name?” Joshua asked, standing from the couch and heading for his small kitchen, tucked next to the front door. There wasn’t much in it, aside from some probably-questionable, probably-less-questionable, and decidedly-no-longer-safe-for-human-consumption takeout leftovers as well as what was left of a six pack of beer in his fridge. He was really going to need to go grocery shopping before Holly set foot in this place, otherwise he’d never hear the end of it.

He pulled a beer out of his fridge as Adelaide explained simply, “I gave her back her actual cards.”

Joshua froze, letting the fridge door slam closed, “You did _what_.”

“Don’t you take that tone with _me_ , Joshua.” Adelaide warned, taking on what she called her “Mom” voice, “It was the right thing to do.”

“Adelaide,” Joshua said, still in blatant disbelief, “You didn’t have the _right_ —,”

“‘The _right’_?” Adelaide interrupted, “Joshua, for her it’s been a _year_ since she did _anything_ on her own and I don’t know if you’re _aware_ but a year is a long fucking time to be dependent on another person; family or not.”

“ _Jesus_ , Adelaide, why don’t you just go down stairs and tell her everything right _now_.” Joshua laughed humorlessly as he walked back towards the couch, “That determination that they have that you were talking about before? The other side could _do_ something about that.”

Adelaide scoffed at him over the phone as Joshua sat back down on his couch, “Like what? Fake her death _again_ , hide her way _again_ , scrub her memory _again_ , and then send her back into the world _again_? That’s too much; they’d _destroy_ her. And we both know the lengths they’ll go to keep her from dying.”

“Or they could just kill _him_ , since he seems to be such a big trigger for her.” Joshua posed, gesturing emphatically with his beer bottle though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“No. He’s too important to just kill off because he’s getting a little too close to something—even if that something _is_ Jennifer—besides, if they had wanted him dead, he never would’ve made it to Boston.” Adelaide commented, sighing slightly.

Joshua rolled his eyes, his agitation bubbling back up, “Right, sure, okay, so if they’re both alive, like they apparently _need_ to be, they’ll apparently find each other no matter what anyone does or says, so that leaves us… _where_ , exactly?”

Adelaide sighed, “Where it’s always left us, Joshua. It leaves us with letting them, letting _Jennifer_ make her own choices.”

There was a pause. Joshua took a swig of his beer as Adelaide carefully said, “Joshua, if you’re _this_ worried about the other side—,”

“You’re damn right I’m worried about the other side!” Joshua snapped, cutting her off, “Twice in one day you’ve managed to piss them off, both times revealing some of your best defenses and greatest weakness. I mean, Jesus, Adelaide, talk about poking the bear! Do you realize what could happen if they _try_ something—,”

“Joshua.” She said calmly, forcing him to stop.

He let out an agitated breath but kept quiet and took another drink of beer.

“They don’t scare me. None of them ever have and none of them ever will. And _if_ they are foolish enough to try something, they _will_ fail.” She said coolly.

Joshua let out an incredulous chuckle, “Jesus, Adelaide. What _are_ you?”

“I’m just a used bookstore owner.” Came the simple reply. Something in her tone told him that she was smiling and it made Joshua shake his head as he set his beer bottle on the floor between his feet. That was always the answer to that question and any of it’s variants; “Just a bookstore owner.” Joshua had been helping her for two years now and he’d lost count of how many times he’d heard her say it to him and her “charges”. He wondered if she knew that at this point it was more of a joke to him than it was a valid explanation or if that was the point; that it was always a joke no matter who was asking or when.

He ran a hand over his head, “A bookstore owner. That’s right. And I’m…?”  
“My plucky young assistant.” She said simply, earning a chuckle out of Joshua. There was the briefest of pauses before she said carefully, “If…if you still _want_ to be, that is. Having the right to choose doesn’t stop with Jennifer, you know.”

Joshua sighed. He appreciated the out that she was offering him—that she was _always_ offering him, and he’d be lying if he said he never thought of taking her up on it, but he knew he wouldn’t do it. Not yet anyway: “In it to win it, Ma. Besides, someone’s gotta keep you in line, right?”

Adelaide laughed, “You _sassin’_ me, Josh?”

“I would never.” Joshua replied, smiling at the phone.

“You better not be. Can’t have my plucky young assistant smart mouthing me; I get enough of that from my _family_.” Adelaide said, her tone still sounding like she was smiling.

“I’ll try to remember that.” He smirked, shaking his head again.

There was another brief pause before Joshua said, “Goodnight, _Ms._ Adelaide.”

“Goodnight, _Mr_. Joshua.”

Joshua ended the call, tossing the phone onto the couch cushion next to him and rubbed his face with his hands. He leaned back into the cushions, placing his hands behind his neck as he considered what the next few days were likely to look like. He didn’t like lying to Holly or to Jennifer, but it was for the best.

Right?

And besides, everything would eventually come out into the light whether or not he wanted it to or whether or not he decided to force it now. He sighed as he leaned forward, rubbed his neck, and glanced at the ceiling. Adelaide was right, like always: It wasn’t about what he wanted or what he decided to do; everything would come out in its own time. And time, for once, was on their side. And besides, like Adelaide said, it wasn’t about him; it was about Jennifer.

He ran his hands back over his head as he stood to head for bed. This was going to be a long month.


	4. Chapter 4

Jennifer woke to the smell of bacon and coffee, which was a marked improvement to the last time she woke up a few hours earlier. She rolled over to face her left and was awake enough to register that she was surprised to find it empty.

 _He must be up already_ , she found herself thinking, it was only after she sat up and saw Little John curled up on the foot of the bed that she realized that Little John wasn’t the “he” she’d been thinking of.

A throb threatened behind her eyes but she didn’t push on it; she was still too groggy from sleep and too decaffeinated to be trying to push for more memories right now. She climbed out of bed, grabbing her dad’s sweater and her cellphone as she stood and stretched. She yawned as she snapped her fingers for Little John to follow after her, pulling the sweater on over her head. He stood on the bed, and gave his own stretch and yawn in response as Jennifer opened her bedroom door, leaving it open for him as she walked out to the main floor of the shop.

She glanced at her phone, a nervous habit to make sure she didn’t miss any sort of emergency in the middle of the night—a nervous habit she’d gotten into since she first got a cell phone—and opened her text messages. She was sure Holly would be up—the few perks of being best friends with an insomniac—but she still felt nervous as she hazarded sending a text to her, asking if she was up and what her plan was for the day.

“Auntie Jen!” an excited voice squealed from the couch ahead of her as she pocketed the phone. Little John hopped onto the couch as Brielle bounced off of it, and placed his head on the armrest that would let him look into the kitchenette and survey most of the shop at the same time.

Jennifer barely had time to brace herself before Brielle had run up to her and wrapped her arms around waist. Jennifer let out an exaggerated “Oof!” as Brielle crashed into her, before leaning down and scooping Brielle up into her arms, “Oh, honey, that’s too much excitement for your Auntie before she’s had her coffee.”

Brielle giggled at her as she wrapped her arms around Jennifer’s neck, letting her purple teddy bear _thump_ gently against Jennifer’s back as she walked.

Brielle kissed her cheek, “G’mornin’, Auntie Jen!”

Jennifer returned the kiss on Brielle’s cheek, “Good morning, Brielle.”

She set Brielle back on the floor, “Did you find what I got for you?”

Brielle’s eyes got wide as she shook her head. Jennifer grinned at her as she crooked her finger for Brielle to follow her, feeling like a child herself for a moment, and led her behind the counter. From the shelf there, she grabbed the purple haired Troll doll that she’d pulled out of the box from the storage company that was still on the counter.

_“Old family treasures?”_

She let the throb come but didn’t push it as she held the doll out to Brielle who stared at it in wonder. Twice in ten minutes, she noted; she must be knocking all _sorts_ of things loose.

“What do you think?” Jennifer asked Brielle, pulling herself back to the matter at hand.

“It’s beautiful.” Brielle whispered, hugging the doll and her teddy bear to her. Jennifer could hardly contain her chuckle at Brielle’s look of wonder at the doll. She hoped, briefly, that Brielle would never lose her love for the unusual. Brielle looked up at Jennifer, green eyes bright, and beamed at her, “Thank you, Auntie!”

Jennifer grinned back and leaned down to kiss Brielle’s cheek again, “You’re welcome, honey. Now, where _is_ that mother of yours?”

“Making you a _damn_ fine breakfast, that’s where she is,” came the reply from the kitchenette.

Jennifer rolled her eyes at Brielle, who giggled at her, before saying, “Remember, Brielle, we don’t swear.”

“Unless it’s necessary.” Adelaide and Brielle said in unison as Jennifer walked into the kitchenette. Adelaide was in front of the stove working with what looked like scrambled eggs. On the counter next to her was a rather impressive stack of chocolate chip waffles with peanut butter and maple syrup waiting on either side of the plate the stack rested on, a small plate with bacon piled onto it, as well as a mug waiting by the coffeepot.

 _How long was I out?_ Jennifer wondered briefly as she surveyed the spread.

Jennifer sighed exasperatedly as she held the beaded curtain open for Brielle, “No, we just _don’t_ swear. Full stop.”

Adelaide smirked at her over her shoulder, “Maybe _you_ don’t.”

Brielle giggled as she went to sit at the table, legs swinging over the edge of the seat, and set her teddy bear and new doll in her lap. Brielle was studying the doll intently on her lap, with the same awe and wonder that she’d had initially. Jennifer smiled at her and shook her head.

Adelaide furrowed her brow when she noticed the addition to her daughter’s collection, “Where’d you get that doll, Brielle?”

Jennifer raised a guilty hand as she poured herself a cup of coffee, “That’d be from me. Well, from the storage company. I think they made a mistake because I don’t recognize _anything_ in that box on the counter, but I figured that by the time they realized their mistake and _actually_ got around to getting it back to the _right_ people, enough time would’ve passed that it’d end up as ‘ours’ anyway.”

Adelaide smirked at her as she turned the stove down to low to keep the eggs warm, “You know, some people would consider that stealing.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing that possession is nine-tenths of the law.” Jennifer replied, scrunching her nose at Adelaide. She laughed as she grabbed some plates from the cabinet and set them next to the breakfast food.

As Adelaide was reaching into a drawer to grab some silverware, Jennifer kissed her cheek, “Mornin’ Cos. What’s with the breakfast spread?”

Adelaide shrugged as she put the silverware on the counter and started making up plates for Brielle and herself, “Figured you could use a real breakfast.”

Jennifer arched an eyebrow at her as she took a drink of her coffee, “And this wouldn’t have _anything_ to do with what happened last night?”

Adelaide just smiled at her as she grabbed some of the silverware and moved around the counter towards the table with the two plates sufficiently filled with breakfast food. Over her shoulder, Adelaide said, “So, I see the sweater, but I couldn’t find the mug; any particular reason why?”

Jennifer fidgeted slightly in response, “I, uh, I had a nightmare last night.”

Adelaide glanced at her as she stepped around her to grab a cup for Brielle from one of the cabinets.

Jennifer’s phone buzzed in her pocket as she started assembling her own plate, pointedly trying to avoid Adelaide’s gaze and the question that was there. When Jennifer didn’t offer any further explanation, Adelaide let out a sigh but didn’t push. If Jennifer didn’t want to talk about it, she’d let it go, just like if she wanted to talk about it, she’d be there to talk about it. Adelaide grabbed the milk from the fridge and poured some into the green plastic cup she’d grabbed for Brielle as Jennifer opened her messages to see what Holly had said.

Adelaide glanced over to look at the phone’s screen before she turned back to the fridge to put the milk away, “You thinking of spending the day with Holly?”

Jennifer shifted nervously, pocketing her phone without typing a reply, “Something like that. Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

Adelaide studied her again before grabbing the cup as well as the maple syrup and heading back to the table. Brielle grabbed the syrup from her mother as she set the cup next to her plate and dumped an unhealthy amount onto the waffles in front of her, enough so that even her eggs and bacon would have a distinctly maple flavor. Adelaide just chuckled at her as she cut into her own waffles. Jennifer made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat, making Brielle look at her. Rather than looking bashful about her overindulgence in the maple syrup, Brielle only grinned at her and licked at her fingers where extra syrup had flowed. Jennifer smiled even as she gave an all-suffering sigh and grabbed the peanut butter as she came to sit across from Adelaide, her plate filled with the last of the eggs, bacon, and the last waffle.

“I never asked how dinner with Holly went.” Adelaide commented, pausing in her eating to take a drink of her coffee.

Jennifer shrugged, smearing peanut butter across her waffle and pouring some maple syrup over it—a decidedly more conservative amount than Brielle, though still enough to pool over the top of it, “It was good. Started weird, but…actually, you know, it kind of ended a little weird too?”

Adelaide looked at her expectantly. Jennifer made an exaggerated point of glancing at Brielle in response, which only made Adelaide roll her eyes, “Jennifer, I’m sure whatever you’ve got to tell me will not be _that_ damaging. Besides, she’s mature for her age.”

Brielle grinned at Jennifer around a mouthful of waffle. Jennifer considered it a true testament to Adelaide’s statement that at least Brielle didn’t try to speak with her mouth full.

Jennifer sighed, shaking her head, “ _Okay_ , but I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

Adelaide just smiled, “ _Then_ it’s a good thing I made a _big_ breakfast.”

Jennifer chuckled as she looked back down at her breakfast. She took another bite of waffle before saying, “Just. Just don’t be mad.”

Adelaide gave her a speculative look, “I’ll try.”

Jennifer nodded and told Adelaide about the memory flashes with the Voice and the throbs, about the strange encounter with Holly’s “Grad school friend,” about Holly telling her to push on the throbs, about what she’d remembered when Little John had been freaking out the night before, before finally telling her about remembering the Gray Gull. As she talked, she expected Adelaide to stop her, to express her annoyance at the fact that she hadn’t said anything sooner, to express concern, to do _something_ but instead, Adelaide continued to eat her breakfast, a contemplative, almost calculating, look on her face. Jennifer had never seen that look on Adelaide’s face before, at least not when _she_ was talking, and she wasn’t sure what to think of it now. Brielle sat quietly next to her, brow furrowed in concentration as she ate her breakfast and listened intently to what Jennifer was saying. Jennifer hoped this wasn’t scaring Brielle, or making her worry; _she_ hardly understood what was happening, she didn’t want to stress her little second cousin out about it too.

“It’s weird.” Jennifer said, collecting the plates from the table and standing, “I still have the name, I remember that as clearly as if I had read it—and I think I did? Like I can kind of remember seeing the sign for the Gray Gull?—but everything else from the initial hit that remembering the name caused is…is less?” She shook her head, unsure of whether or not she was even making sense, as she put the dishes in the sink and ran water over them, “It’s like an after-image or something. The only thing that’s stayed moderately clear is one of the voices I heard when it happened.”

“The voice you heard before?” Adelaide asked as she stood, she crouched in front of Brielle’s chair and she climbed onto her back.

Jennifer nodded as she loaded the dishwasher, “Yeah.”

“The one who sounded like Aunt Holly’s friend?” Brielle added, earning a surprised look from Jennifer.

Adelaide just grinned and jostled Brielle on her back, making her giggle, “Told you she was mature for her age.”

Jennifer just chuckled at them as she slammed the dishwasher’s door closed, starting it, “Yes, Brielle, the one who sounded like Aunt Holly’s friend.”

Adelaide’s eyes took on a mischievous glint as she came to a realization; “You were going to ask Holly about him, weren’t you? _That’s_ why you texted her! You want to ask her about him!”  
Jennifer shot her a glare, “You’re making more of this than is actually necessary.”

Adelaide pulled out her phone from her own pants pockets, being careful not to drop Brielle from her back, “Oh, I’m gonna call her right now.”

“Adelaide!” Jennifer yelled at her as she hit the speaker button and the dial tone filled the space of the kitchen.

“Jennifer!” Adelaide mimicked, exaggerating Jennifer’s tone.

“Adelaide, hang up that phone.” Jennifer said sternly, glaring at her.

“Jennifer, this guy could help you and if Holly _knows_ him—,”

“Speak and be heard.” Came the greeting from the phone.

“Holly!” Adelaide said a little too loudly and a little too cheerily.

“Adelaide!” Holly replied, “Color me surprised! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Adelaide went to answer, only to be cut off by Brielle chiming in, “Hi Aunt Holly!”

“Is that my favorite honorary niece?” Holly chirped, her voice jumping a few octaves, “How’re you _doin’_ , you little beam of sunlight?”

“I miss you, Aunt Holly! When am I gonna see you?” Brielle called back over Adelaide’s shoulder towards the phone.

“Brielle, Momma’s on the phone!” Adelaide scolded Brielle.

“You can _hardly_ be mad at her; this conversation is _anything_ but private!” Jennifer interjected.

Holly laughed over the phone, “Oh, I’ve missed this.”

Adelaide put Brielle back on the floor, “Hang on a second, Holly.”

She pressed the phone into her shirt as she crouched and looked at Brielle, “Sweetness, why don’t you go up and shower? Afterwards, Auntie Jen will braid your hair, how does that sound?”

“She will?” Jennifer asked from behind her.

Adelaide glared at her over her shoulder, “She will.”

Jennifer shrugged back, and Adelaide and Brielle both took that to be her conceding.

Brielle’s face lit up, “Okay!”

Brielle ran off towards the stairs, Adelaide and Jennifer following after her. Jennifer glanced at Little John who, once again, seemed completely unmoved by the chaos in the kitchenette. Adelaide moved the phone from her shirt, “You still there, Hol?”

“Never left, Lady,” Holly replied, using a nickname from their adolescence, as they started to climb the stairs, “So to _what_ do I owe this rather chaotic wake up call?”

“Well, you see, _Jennifer_ here has some questions for you,” Adelaide answered as she held the phone over her shoulder towards Jennifer.

“What’s goin’ on, Jen?” Holly asked as Jennifer took the phone from Adelaide and as they made it into the loft. There was a light coming from the bathroom and the sound of running water. Adelaide stood next to the door and called to Brielle to make sure she was doing all right.

“Hey, Holly. Um, kind of a _weird_ question for you, but, uh…do you remember your, uh, your ‘Grad school friend’ from last night? Duke?” Jennifer asked, perching on the back of the couch and facing towards the bathroom door while Adelaide, after receiving a satisfying answer from Brielle, went to her room to get dressed.

“Well, seeing as he’s _my_ friend, I’d say yes, I remember him.” Holly chuckled.

Jennifer made a face at the phone even though she knew Holly couldn’t see her, “ _Anyway_ , I was wondering if you knew what…what some of his, um, ‘business’ entailed?”

“You’re gonna have to be slightly more specific than that, babe.” Holly prompted, “I don’t know much about his ‘business’ but what I _do_ know needs some… _classifying_.”

Jennifer sighed, “Has he ever…do you know if he owns a bar called ‘The Gray Gull’?”

There was a pause. Adelaide came back out of her room, wearing a black romper with white polka dots and a pair of black leggings that had the design of the leg bones on them. The romper had halter straps, leaving her back and arms bear to show off her numerous tattoos that were on her shoulders, back, neck, and upper arms. She knocked on the bathroom door, and called for Brielle to tell her how she was doing just as the water shut off.

“You know,” Holly said on the phone, sounding distracted, “I’m, uh, I’m not too _sure_ about that one, Jen. But, uh, y’know, Duke _is_ still in town. Why don’t I just, you know, give him a _call_ and set something up for the two of you today and you can ask him all the questions you want?”

“Oh, uh, I-I don’t know about—,” Jennifer started to say.

“That sounds like a _great_ idea!” Adelaide interrupted enthusiastically as Brielle opened the bathroom door. She was wrapped up in a little blue bathrobe with tropical fish stitched into it and looked up at her mother as she continued, “Since her class is doing a unit on the ocean, I was thinking of taking Brielle to the Aquarium today—,”

“ _Really?_ ” Brielle exclaimed excitedly.

“—and I was thinking, Holly, since it’s been so _long_ since we’ve seen each other and since Josh lives right next door, that you and Josh might like to go _with_ us?” Adelaide continued as she grinned and nodded down at Brielle.

“I’m, uh, I’m not so sure—,” Jennifer tried again, surprised by Adelaide’s excitement, and confused by how quickly the rest of the conversation was going.

“That sounds great!” Holly interrupted, “I’ll have Duke pick me up and then we can use Joshua’s car to get there!”

“Oh, this’ll be so _fun_!” Adelaide beamed, “We can get lunch at—,”

“Does _anyone_ wanna hear what _I_ think?” Jennifer yelled over her, causing a shocked silence to fall on them. Brielle flinched away from Jennifer and instinctively went to hide behind her mom’s leg, making Jennifer feel like the scum of the earth for scaring her.

Adelaide only paused for a moment, regarding Jennifer briefly, before crouching down to Brielle’s level, placing a hand on her shoulder, and quietly told her to go get dress. Brielle nodded, glancing nervously at Jennifer, and headed towards her room. The silence that had fallen on the four of them was enough to make Jennifer’s entire being feel wrong. Jennifer wanted to move to reach out for Brielle, to try to show her that everything was okay, but she didn’t want to risk scaring her more or seeing her flinch away from her, so she kept her hands to her side. Once Brielle closed her bedroom door, Adelaide turned to look back at Jennifer. She was expecting some sort of Momma Bear anger to be bubbling up on Adelaide’s face like it usually did when someone scared or did anything to make Brielle uncomfortable, but she was calm. If anything, she looked a little regretful.

“You’re right, Jen.” Adelaide said apologetically, “We were so busy making our own plans that we forgot to ask you if you were okay.”

“Sorry, Jen,” Holly said quietly over the phone.

Jennifer sighed and rubbed her forehead, “It’s just…I barely know this guy and he kind of _freaked_ me out yesterday and seemed to know more about me than _I_ knew or, hell, even _know_ about him and now I’m starting to remember these…these _things_ and he may or may not be a part of what I’m remembering which is weird enough as it is because what does the hell that even _mean_ and you all seem _shockingly_ calm about that and _really_ willing to just leave me alone with this guy who could be a _stalker_ for all we know.”

She had started to speak rapidly like she did when she was nervous or scared and only really breathed again once she was done.

Holly spoke first, “Jen, I know you’re freaked out, but…Duke might have _answers_ for you. And I know that you’re really scared that something might be wrong with your memories or _you_ , I _know_ that, but what I _also_ know is that Duke would never do _anything_ to hurt you. Ever.”

Jennifer chuckled nervously, “You seem pretty convinced. This guy _that_ good of a friend?”

“Something like that,” Holly answered, her tone telling Jennifer that she was smiling.

Jennifer looked at Adelaide who was still watching her carefully, “What about you? Why are _you_ so okay with this?”

Adelaide had always been protective of Jennifer. She remembered more than one instance in their childhood where Adelaide got into physical and verbal altercations with people over her. She remembered one time that Adelaide physically moved between her and a complete stranger because she _thought_ that they were trying to talk to her. Yet despite this, Adelaide had not only encouraged her to seek out the guy who freaked her out the night before, but also seemed _excited_ by the idea that she’d be spending the better part of a day with him.

Adelaide shrugged, “You were right yesterday. I’ve been coddling you too much since the accident, trying to keep you safe from the rest of the world. It’s time you went back out there, and I think the best way to do that, is with a friend that we trust.”

Jennifer quirked an eyebrow at her, “You haven’t even _met_ him.”

Adelaide shrugged again, “No, I haven’t. But _Holly_ has, and _Holly_ trusts him, and that’s enough for me.”

 _Since when?_ Jennifer wanted to ask, but she held back.

There was a pause as Jennifer and Adelaide regarded each other. Jennifer, looking for some sort of tell on Adelaide’s part to let her know whether or not she was being truthful with her and Adelaide, looking at her like she had looked as Brielle boarded the school bus on her first day of Kindergarten: scared, but proud.

“So,” Holly’s voice on the phone chimed in tentatively, “is it okay if I call Duke? Get a date set up for you two?”  
Jennifer rolled her eyes, “This is _not_ a date.”

“Right.” Holly said lightly on the other end of the phone, “But is it _okay_ if I call him?”

Jennifer sighed, “Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Great!” Holly said cheerfully, “I’ll see you guys in a couple of hours! Bye!”

“Bye, Holly,” Adelaide and Jennifer said together.

Jennifer hit the button and handed the phone back to Adelaide. She stood from the back of the couch, suddenly feeling excessively out of place and like she had a laundry list of things she’d been meaning to do and all of them needed to be done _that_ moment, as Adelaide pocketed the phone. Jennifer gestured behind her towards the stairs, her sudden anxiety clear in the stammering of her voice and the uncertain way she moved her hands, “I should…I should go figure out what I’m going to wear.”

Adelaide grinned at her, “Worried about your date?”

Jennifer made a face at her, her anxiety easing in favor of mock hostility directed towards her cousin, “It’s _not_ a date.”

Adelaide just chuckled after her as she headed down the stairs. Little John looked at her as she reached the bottom, tail thumping gently against the couch, but made no move to follow after her.

She rolled her eyes at him as she walked to her room. Once there, she immediately shed her pajamas and changed into clean underwear and a tank top. She started rummaging through her tiny closet, pulling out her favorite outfits and placing them on the bed. She surveyed them, picking one up and then another, holding them in front of her as she stood before the mirror that hung from her closet door.

She bit her bottom lip nervously as she readjusted the most recent dress she’d grabbed.

Nothing looked right.

Everything looked fine, of course, but nothing looked _right_.

She sighed at her reflection, letting her arms fall in front of her, the dress folding in her arms as she did.

Why was she even putting _this_ much thought into her outfit? What did _she_ care what some stranger thought of her? A stranger, she reminded herself, who most likely had a criminal record, or, at the _very_ least, whose business ventures were _less_ than reputable. She sighed at her reflection again, bringing the dress back up and fidgeting with it as she held it against herself. That was just the thing, though. She _did_ care. The small part of her from the night before, that had apparently grown a _lot_ stronger with the recent revelations, seemed to care a _lot_ about how she looked and about what he would think of her. In all honesty, it was actually a little obnoxious just how _much_ it was trying to make sure that she knew how much it cared. It made her want him to look at her like he had last night; like she was the most beautiful, amazing, _important_ thing that he’d ever seen.

She just wished it would tell her _why._

Adelaide leaned against her doorframe, smirking at her as she tossed away the dress she’d been debating on and grabbed a different one from the bed. Adelaide had done the long part of her hair up into a black bandana with white skulls on it so that her hair curled before disappearing underneath the bandana, making her look like a pin-up model, and had grabbed a black leather jacket to wear over her romper. She adjusted her glasses at Jennifer, “Having trouble deciding on an outfit for your date?”

“It’s not a date!” Jennifer nearly yelled exasperatedly, dramatically tossing the dress in her hands back onto the bed.

Adelaide arched an eyebrow at her, “Then you’re _not_ wearing your ‘date night’ push-up bra?”

Jennifer glared at her, even as she blushed and crossed her arms over her chest to hide herself from Adelaide, “Maybe.”

Adelaide chuckled back, “Any particular reason _why_ you’re having trouble figuring out what to wear?”

Jennifer sighed, gesturing emphatically as she spoke, “Adelaide, you didn’t see how he…how he _looked_ at me. He just…he _looked_ at me like I was…like I was something…and Jesus you should _see_ this guy. He’s like… _god_ I don’t think I’ve ever _actually_ met someone _this_ attractive in the real world, y’know? He’s like—he’s fit, right? But _lean_ and he’s so _tall_ and—,”

Adelaide smiled knowingly at her, “And you want him to think that you’re just as attractive as you think he is?”

“Yes. No! Maybe?” Jennifer stammered before she turned around and fell, dramatically, face-first onto her bed. She groaned into her mattress, “I don’t _know_.”

Jennifer felt ridiculous for feeling and acting like she was. It reminded her, vaguely, of how Holly had been in high school just before a date; all dramatic flailing and grand statements about nothing being right. Adelaide laughed at her as she walked into the room. She surveyed the clothes spread around on Jennifer’s bed, “And _none_ of your favorite clothes look right?”

Jennifer groaned again, not really using words but attempting to make it sound closer to the affirmative.

“Do you just want _me_ to choose something for you?”

Another groan, also within the realm of the affirmative.

Adelaide chuckled at her as she looked back over the clothes around and under Jennifer. From the pile of clothes around her, Adelaide pulled a navy blue dress with orange and yellow flowers printed on it out from under Jennifer and placed it on top of her. She grabbed a pair of gray knee high socks, her taupe wedges, and a jean jacket with gray cotton sleeves and a hood, and stacked them all on top of the dress on Jennifer who seemed remarkably unmoved by the stack of clothing on her back.

“Here you go. One perfect, ‘not-date’ outfit, hand chosen by your _infinitely_ wise cousin.” Adelaide said, before smacking Jennifer on the ass, earning a disapproving yelp from her into the mattress, which only made Adelaide giggle.

Jennifer rolled her head and glared at her, “Wise _ass_ , more like.”

Adelaide made a face at her, earning a similar face from Jennifer, before chuckling at her again as she stood up straight.

“You better wrap up this pity-panic-party soon, though,” Adelaide said over her shoulder as she moved to walk back out to the main floor of the shop, “you’ve got a second cousin who is _dying_ to have her hair braided by her favorite Auntie.”

“Adelaide?” Jennifer called after her before she was out of earshot.

Adelaide paused and turned back to Jennifer, eyebrows raised, and her expression a question mark.

“What do I…I mean,” Jennifer started, sitting up and starting to get dressed. Adelaide walked back towards her and leaned against her doorframe. Jennifer sighed as she stood and zipped up the dress, “What do I do if I start to get another throb? I mean, do I push on it? The last time I did it, I was sitting down but if I had been _standing_ …”

She tried to smile at Adelaide, “I very well can’t just _pass out_ on him, you know?”

Adelaide smirked at her briefly before her expression turned serious, “No, you can’t. Look, Jen, I want you to remember just as badly as you and Holly do—if not _more_ so—but if you keep _pushing_ like that, you’re going to do more harm than good.”

Jennifer smirked, “Oh, what, suddenly you’re a neurologist?”

Adelaide made a face at Jennifer again, “Well, if _you_ spent the better part of a year worrying that your cousin’s head wound was going to suddenly take a turn for the worst, _you’d_ start to familiarize yourself with the finer workings of the brain too. Or I at least _hope_ you would.”

Jennifer smiled sadly at her and at her attempt at a joke. Adelaide had been so hyper-protective of her since the accident, and especially since she moved in. Jennifer didn’t blame her, though, even if it was a bit stifling at times; she knew that they were all the other had left of their family. Jennifer sat on the bed and pulled on her knee high socks, “So what _do_ you think I should do?”

Adelaide sighed, “For now? Just try to note when the throbs happen, and then tell me about them. I’ll…I’ll help you through them.”

Jennifer gave her a confused look as she pulled on the jacket, “How?”

Adelaide studied her for a moment before closing the distance between them and stood by the side of the bed. She then told Jennifer to lie down. Jennifer gave her a speculative look, but complied.

“Close your eyes.”

Jennifer did, though she made a crack about not knowing her cousin was also a hypnotist. Adelaide, ignoring the joke, told her to relax, to slow her breathing, and to only listen to the sound of her voice. Just as Jennifer felt as if she was going to slip into sleep, Adelaide changed her instructions.

“I want you to picture, in your mind, a hallway of doors.” _Doors again_ , a quiet voice sighed in Jennifer’s mind, as Adelaide continued, “Let it stretch out into infinity before you. Behind these doors are your memories. I want you to tell me what the first doors you see look like.”

She told Adelaide that they looked like the front door of her childhood home, if not a little bit more worn—the baby blue color of it was almost white from constantly being washed in the sun, and the lining at the bottom was pulling away from the door so it hung awkwardly from the bottom.

“Okay, you’re doing great, Jen. Now, I want you to open the first one you see, and tell me what’s there.”

In her mind, Jennifer opened one of the doors. Behind it was one of the first times her mother had told her about appreciating the little things. She saw the kitchen of her childhood home, washed in golden light from the late afternoon sun, she saw her mother at the kitchen sink, and her father sweeping through, leaving nothing but joy and laughter in his wake. It was a memory of such profound love and happiness that Jennifer wasn’t sure she wanted to leave it; it felt so _safe._

She told Adelaide all of these things.

“That’s good,” Adelaide replied, her voice sounding as if it were coming from far away, “That’s really good, Jen. I know you don’t want to, but let’s close that door—just for now—and walk down the hallway a bit to some of the more recent doors, okay?”

“Okay,” Jennifer said sleepily.

“What do the doors look like now, Jen?”

“Battered.” She said, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “Some of them look…they look like the doors on a ship. Some have boards on them, like someone’s trying to keep something from getting out.”

“Or some _one_ from getting _in_.” Adelaide said quietly next to her.

“My head hurts when I look at them.” Jennifer whimpered.

“Okay.” Adelaide soothed, “Okay, let’s look at some of the other doors. Do any of them _not_ have boards on them?”

Jennifer paused as she surveyed the doors in her mind, “One of them. It looks like the entrance to _The Globe_. And it’s…it’s like someone only recently pulled the boards off.”

“Can you try the handle?”

Jennifer did, only to be met with resistance. A throb had started behind her eyes, but it was weaker than any of the others she’d felt before. She told this to Adelaide.

“Okay, that’s good, Jen, that’s really good. Do you think you could _pull_ the door open?”

Jennifer nodded, “I think so.”

“Okay. If it starts to hurt too much, just tell me, and we’ll stop, alright?”

Jennifer nodded again.

“Okay. Then go ahead and pull on it.”

In her mind, Jennifer grabbed the handle of the door and pulled as hard as she could on it. The door fought her at first, but after another solid tug, it fell open.

She was at her desk at _The Globe_ , when suddenly she heard the Voice call out for someone named “Audrey.” She leapt to her feet to try to see what the problem was, but no one around her had heard what she had. The Voice kept yelling, calling for “Audrey,” talking about how “The Barn” was collapsing. There were other voices now too, talking about the way to end something called “the Troubles,” and someone named Agent Howard. The voices were loud and saying the same things over and over again, and she felt panicky and scared. She had gone to the hospital, and they had run test after test on her. She was in a hospital room and she was alone. Where was Adelaide? She felt terrifying alone as one of the doctors finally asked her about a history of mental illness in her family.

“I’m not crazy.” She had said defiantly, but even as she had, her resolve wavered. _Where’s Adelaide?_ Her present self kept asking as she watched the memory. Where was Adelaide to fight the monsters? The doctor gave her a pitying look and told her that there were plenty of options for seeking psychiatric help, but a panic had set in on Jennifer and she just kept repeating, “I’m not crazy, I’m _not_ crazy, I’m not _crazy_.”

Someone touched her shoulder, and a different voice called out to her, “Jennifer! Jennifer, wake up! Jennifer, come back, it’s okay! _Jennifer_!”

The memory fell away and Jennifer opened her eyes to see Adelaide standing over her and looking scared. Adelaide tried to smile at her, relief clear in her eyes, “Hey! Hey, there she is.”

Jennifer sat up carefully, Adelaide hovering around her and whispering, “Easy, easy.”

Jennifer looked at Adelaide, waving away her hovering hands, “What happened? Did I do anything?”

Adelaide stroked her hair, “You kept mumbling, ‘I’m not crazy’ over and over again, getting louder each time. What happened? How do you feel?”

Jennifer paused, taking an internal stock of herself before she shook her head, “I…I feel…well I mean, I feel a little shaken up, but I feel _good_. I think this is the best I’ve felt all year.”

Adelaide’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Well, what did you remember?”

Jennifer told her about the voices and the hospital, looking at Adelaide in confusion, “You weren’t there. I was in the hospital, alone, and you weren’t there—I don’t…I don’t even think I _thought_ of you—but that—that can’t be _right_ …Can it?”

Adelaide didn’t say anything for a terrifying moment, long enough for Jennifer to wonder if maybe her memory _was_ right, and kept her gaze on the floor just to side of Jennifer, before Adelaide finally said, “You’re not alone _now_ , Jen. I’m with you _now._ ”

Jennifer only felt slightly reassured by that.

 _But what about_ then _?_ She wondered, a quiet uneasiness settling in her stomach as she and Adelaide studied each other for another moment. Adelaide eventually asked, “What _else_ , Jen?”

Jennifer let out a shaking breath and refocused on the memory again, before realizing there’d been another inconsistency, “It…I think I remember it as the same day—hell even the same _time_ —as when I had the sailing accident. How can…how can that _be_?”

Adelaide shook her head, “I dunno, Cos.” She held Jennifer’s face in her hands for a moment, “But we’ll keep working on those doors, okay? We’ll figure this out.”

Jennifer placed her hand over Adelaide’s, grounding herself. Adelaide was right; she was here _now_ and that had to mean something, right? Jennifer smiled up at her, “Thank you.”

Adelaide just grinned at her, tapping her thumbs against Jennifer’s cheeks, “What’s family for, if not helping you recover previously hidden away memories?”

Jennifer chuckled weakly at her as a voice from the front of the shop called, “Auntie Jen? Are you still gonna braid my hair?”

Adelaide turned back to the door, letting go of Jennifer’s face, and called out, “She’s comin’, Sweetness, just give her a couple more minutes.”

She looked back at Jennifer, “Go ahead and do your hair and makeup, or whatever else you need; I think I can keep her distracted long enough to give you that much.”

Jennifer smiled appreciatively at her, “Thank you, Adelaide. For everything.”

Adelaide just waved her off as she walked out to the main floor of the shop, mumbling, “Don’t thank me _yet_ , Jen; we still don’t know what it is that you’re going to remember.”

* * *

Duke was up just before the sun rose. Sleep had fought him every step of the way, and when he _had_ slept, every creak of the Rouge had him awake again, thinking that maybe it was Jennifer. When he would force that thought away, the thought of it being whoever it was that had taken her things—and possibly her—from the Rouge would pop up, setting him back into attack-mode and setting sleep even further off. When that would happen, he’d stalk around the stateroom, rechecking every spot that he’d previously checked for any sort of bug or wire. From there, he would clean. He knew it was ridiculous to think that Jennifer would come home so soon, but he couldn’t help it; what if she _did_ come home? And she saw the Rouge like that? He’d never hear the end of it.

 _“I’ve never known a Businessman to be so negligent of his place of business.”_ He could almost hear her saying.

_“Well you’re the one always saying that I’m not like anyone else you’ve ever met; I’m just trying to keep the trend going.”_

_“You realize that wasn’t a_ challenge, _right?”_

He’d pushed those thoughts away, knowing that thinking about that wasn’t going to help him, or her, and focused on whatever task he’d given himself. _That_ was concrete. _That_ he could see and feel.

When he’d reached a calmer state of mind, he’d try to go to sleep again, only to repeat the process all over again. After a few hours of that, Duke gave up and went on deck to do his yoga, trying a more reliable way to calm his mind.

Just as he’d finished, and was heading back below to shower, his phone rang. He was surprised to see that it was Holly; a slight panic hit him as he tried to think of what she could be calling about.

“Holly?” He answered.

“Duke!” She nearly yelled into his ear. She sounded excited which only made him more nervous, “What are you doing today?”

“Uh—,” Duke started to answer, only to be immediately cut off by Holly.

“Well you’re not doing that—Jennifer wants to see you.”

Duke froze in the middle of the stateroom, the words echoing around him.

_Jennifer wants to see you._

“She does?” he asked, disbelief heavy in his voice, “She…she _wants_ to see _me_?”

“Yeah!” Holly chirped on the other side of the line, her excitement practically palpable through the phone.

“Sunshine, if this is you’re idea of a _joke_ …” Duke started, meaning to sound threatening, but he was already smiling. Holly’s excitement was contagious and distracting, even through the phone. And she wondered why he’d started calling her “Sunshine.”

“Sailor, I don’t know _what_ kind of girl you take me for, but I’m not so cruel as to joke about _this_ —and certainly not with you.” Holly said, also trying to sound serious, but the trill in her voice told him she was still smiling.

“Did…did she actually _ask_ for me?” Duke asked, going to sit on his bed.

“Well, see, that’s where I came in.” Holly explained, her tone staying light even as it became cautious, “She—well, Adelaide—that’s her cousin—or at least, who my memories _say_ is her cousin; but you know all that—right—anyway—Adelaide called me and Jennifer asked about you and whether or not you owned a bar called ‘The Gray Gull’—,”

“Ah, so she remembered my _bar_ , not _me_.” Duke chuckled humorlessly.

 _She remembers the bar, but not_ us _._

“Pull in that self-loathing, son, we don’t have time for it.” Holly warned, still speaking rapidly, “Besides, I don’t _know_ what she does and doesn’t remember. She _must_ remember, though, that there’s _some_ sort of connection between the Gull and you, otherwise she wouldn’t’ve asked about _you_.”

Duke sighed, “It’s the little things, right?”

Holly chuckled lightly over the phone, “That’s right. So here’s the plan; you’re going to come and pick me up, and then we’re going to the bookshop—you _do_ know how to get to the shop from the Fairmount, right?”

Duke grinned at the phone, “I’m not sure I like what you’re implying.”

Holly laughed, “Oh don’t _even_. How long was it after you left the bar before you were parked outside of the shop, ‘just checking’ on the place? Twenty minutes? Ten?”

Duke shifted on the bed, “You’re terrifying.”

Holly laughed again, “It’s been said. Anyway, once we’re at the shop, we’ll meet up with Jen, Adelaide, and my little brother, Joshua—,”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Duke interjected, standing from his bed and pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he started to rummage through what was left of his clean clothing; he really needed to find a Laundromat soon. He sniffed at a shirt before making a face at it and throwing it to the side as he continued, “Well, truth be told, I didn’t know Jennifer had a _cousin_ until this bullshit happened, but that’s a whole other issue.”

“Eh,” Holly said dismissively, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come more clearly to it—right now we can hardly hear the river that it’s over. Besides, more often than not, Josh doesn’t really come up. I mean, we don’t have an _awful_ relationship, but we’ve always just been kind of… _independent_ of each other, you know?”

Duke sighed, “Yeah. Yeah I know.”

“I don’t know _what_ he’ll know or remember about the last year, though,” Holly said nervously, “so just…just be careful what you disclose around him. He’s a good kid, though. Quiet. Too snarky for his own good.”

“ _No_. Where could he have gotten _that_ from?” Duke gasped, playing up his disbelief.

“Ha. Ha ha.” Holly laughed sarcastically on the other side of the line; “ _Anyway_. Adelaide invited Joshua and me to go to the Aquarium with her and her daughter, Brielle. We’ll probably be gone most of the day, so that’ll give you and Jennifer a chance to talk. That is, of course, unless you wanted to go to the Aquarium _with_ us? Maybe revisit your _friends_ in the seal tank?”

Duke sighed, “You’re going to make me regret telling you about that, aren’t you?”

“Me? Make you regret telling me something? I’m _offended_.” She said indignantly on the other side of the line.

Duke rolled his eyes and chuckled despite himself, “Right. Well I’m gonna have to pass on that; I don’t know if I want to risk testing whether or not my life long ban from there is still intact.”

Holly laughed at him, “Ah, well I guess you and Jennifer will just have to spend the _whole_ day together, talking.”

Duke nodded as he threw clean clothes on his mattress and then sighed, “Right. Talking.”

Holly sighed back on the other side of the line, picking up on the underpinnings of his tone, “Listen, Duke, I know it’s not _much_ and it’s not what you _want_ but—,”

“Oh and _you_ know what _I_ want?” Duke snapped, all the agitation he’d wanted to use against the people who had broken onto his boat finally coming through. It wasn’t fair, and even before Holly responded, he regretted his lack of control over his anger.

“Don’t you _dare_ get snappish with me, Crocker.” Holly snapped back, meeting his venom with her own, “I _know_ you’re frustrated _and_ I _know_ that all you want is Jennifer back, but getting pissy with me _will not_ get her back to you any faster, do you _hear_ me.”

Duke let out a slow breath, trying to rein back in his anger. Once again, Holly was right. She had an annoying habit of doing that lately. Duke told her as such, earning a slight chuckle out of her. There was a pause before Duke said, “Someone…someone came onto the Rouge last night—while I was out with you.”

Holly stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“They…they took her things.” Duke said carefully, rubbing his face with his free hand, “I had put them all in her room, and I had locked the door, just to…ah hell, I don’t know, keep them safe? And I came back last night and it…it was all just _gone_.”

“Shit.” Holly mumbled over the line.

Duke coughed on a laugh, “Yeah. There weren’t any signs of the lock being picked, either, but the door was locked by the time I got there; _exactly_ how I left it. So, assuming whoever took Jennifer’s things last night are the same people who took _her_ , they _clearly_ know that I’m here, and I don’t think they’re all that afraid of me.”

“Well they should be.” Holly said simply on the other side of the line.

Duke chuckled, “You don’t know the half of it, Sunshine.”

There was a brief pause, though it was long enough to make Duke wonder if Holly actually _did_ have some sort of inkling towards what his comment implied, before Holly said, “Okay. You go get ready. I’ll see you in about an hour. And _try_ to look like a human being.”

Duke shook his head, “You know, you keep telling me to do that. I mean, last night I understand; I looked like hell. But don’t you think I would’ve tried to keep it up into the next day?”

“People in mourning don’t usually pay that much attention to their appearance.” Holly said matter-of-factly, “Sometimes they need reminding.”

“But Holly, I’m not _in_ —,”

“Don’t.” Holly warned, “I am _not_ the person to lie to about this. I’ve seen enough mourning to know what it looks like.”

Duke stayed quiet before Holly sighed, “But _that_ is a conversation for another time. I’ll see you soon. Bye, Duke.”

“Bye, Holly.” He mumbled back, not sure if she heard him before the call ended. He headed for his shower, as he tried to process what Holly had told him.

A day.

He was going to spend a _whole day_ with Jennifer. He almost felt foolish for being as excited as he was at the prospect. But he _was_. He felt like a teenager getting ready for his first date. A whole day of her being near him, talking to him, laughing at him, and a whole day of hearing her voice and laugh again, and a whole day just _existing_ near her. A year ago, he would’ve given anything he had just to _see_ her again, let alone spend the better part of a _day_ with her, and here he was, about to do just that.

And she _wanted_ to see him. She _wanted_ to spend that much time with him, even if she didn’t know him.

It wasn’t the same as wanting _him_ , but it was one hell of a start.

Once out of the shower, he got dress, putting on the pale blue, almost white, denim button down that he’d worn when he’d first met Jennifer and a pair of gray jeans. It was also the shirt she’d put on to greet him in the stateroom after their first time together.

_“I’m an idiot.”_

_“Mm.”_

He didn’t know if seeing the shirt would spark any memories in Jennifer, but he also figured that it couldn’t hurt. He rummaged through one of his drawers, and pulled out a small bottle of cologne. Jennifer had given it to him, and she had told him that she loved how it smelled. He had worn it all the time, joking about how he thought it was part of the reason she couldn’t keep her hands off him. He remembered that scent was supposed to be a powerful memory inducer. If the shirt didn’t do anything, maybe the cologne would.

He looked himself over in the mirror, pushing his hair back. He still had dark circles under his eyes, but at least he didn’t look as deranged as he had last night.

He shrugged at himself, “Closer to human.”

And that’s about all Holly could ask for.

He grabbed a To Go cup for what was left of his coffee, before heading back on deck, locking the doors to the stateroom behind him. Even though locks clearly didn’t stop whoever it was that took her things from his boat, it didn’t mean he had to go and make it easier for them.

The drive to the Fairmount was short, and Holly was already waiting for him by the front doors, large sunglasses obscuring her eyes. She was wearing her jean jacket from the night before, over a brown blouse with mint and pink flowers printed on it, over a pair of light blue skinny jeans that matched her jacket. Her headscarf for the day was a similar mint to some of the flowers on her shirt, with light brown and pink patterns printed on it. Even her lips were a mint color.

He rolled his window down and grinned at her, “You headed my way, Sunshine?”

She grinned at him as she leaned through the window, pushing her sunglasses up onto her forehead a little, “Is there any other way to go, Sailor?”

He rolled his eyes at her and hitched his head back slightly to prompt her to climb into the car, “Hop in.”

She walked around to the other side of the truck and climbed in. As Duke drove towards the bookshop, Holly looked around the truck, noting how the driver’s seat was on the right, rather than left side of the car.

“A foreign truck? Don’t you do _anything_ normally?” Holly asked, leaning back into the passenger seat.

Duke shrugged, “Makes it easier to drive my own truck when I travel elsewhere.”

Holly smirked at him, “Oh, what, no snappy comeback about nothing about you being ‘normal’?”

He smiled at her as he parked the truck outside the shop, “I guess my mind’s elsewhere.”

Duke looked into the shop and saw Jennifer immediately. Part of him expected to lose her among the books, but even after a year he was still able to zero in on wherever she was. Maybe that should’ve worried him, but for now, he just watched her. She was sitting on an old couch that was opposite the front counter. She was wearing a jacket that had a denim body and gray cotton sleeves. She had two tendrils of hair hanging on either side of her face that curled towards her chin, while the top layer was twist braided and pinned on the back of her head; he saw orange flowers there, probably fabric, and attached to whatever she was using to pin her hair back. Her hair was longer than he remembered it being, though last night he hadn’t really been paying attention to hair length. Her mouth was moving, more obviously singing this time, and she was looking down in front of her while her hands were working on something that he couldn’t see.

She was still there.

There was something revolutionary in that thought. She hadn’t disappeared in the time between he’d last seen her and this moment.

_“Everyday I wake up and I think: This is the day I’m going to lose her.”_

Something caught her attention and she looked up towards the counter. Whatever it was, it made her grin and laugh, and Duke couldn’t help but smile with her. God, it’d been a year and nothing made him feel as…as _calm_ as seeing her smile.

Holly patted his arm, pulling his gaze back to her, “Everything’s gonna be fine, Duke. Just be your usual, charming, incredibly annoying, and obnoxious self. You know, the man that Jennifer fell for.”

Duke chuckled at her, “You think I’m charming?”

Holly rolled her eyes, “No, _I_ think you’re an obnoxious pain in the ass. _Jennifer_ thinks your charming.”

She hopped out of the truck and headed across the street. Duke followed suit, chuckling after her, just as he heard Holly squeal excitedly, “Joshua!”

As Duke rounded the front of the truck and headed across the street, he saw Holly breaking an embrace with a young man that he assumed was her younger brother. She held onto his forearms as she beamed at him and spoke excitedly. The man had a buzzed head, and was wearing a black pea coat over a red flannel shirt. He was a bit taller than Holly, but Duke couldn’t tell if that was from _his_ shoes or from the fact that Holly was wearing flats for once. He looked pleased to see Holly, but he also looked dazed by how quickly she was talking to him, a feeling that Duke was fairly familiar with at this point.

“Slow down, Holly, the kid looks like he’s barely keeping up,” Duke chuckled as he came to stand next to Holly.

Holly glanced at Duke and made a face at him, “Oh, hush, he’s my _brother_ , he’s used to it.”

“True.” Joshua yawned back, shaking himself, “But I haven’t been up as long as you have, Sis.”

Holly rolled her eyes, “Staying up late playing those damn videogames, I bet.”

Joshua made a face, half sneering and sticking his tongue out slightly, at Holly who made a similar face back at him. It was the face that Duke had frequently been on the receiving end of when Jennifer was with him. Joshua directed his gaze to Duke and smiled, “Hi, I’m Joshua, Holly’s brother.”

“Oh man, where’re my manners?” Holly exclaimed, turning to Duke who held out his hand to Joshua, “Sorry! Duke, this is Josh, my brother, obviously. Josh, this is Duke. He’s, uh—,”

“The, uh, the _transporter_ , right? From Grad school?” Joshua asked, finishing for Holly as he accepted Duke’s offered hand and gave it a solid shake.

Duke’s eyebrow twitched in surprise, but he was better at hiding it than Holly was, as she stammered out, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s right.”

Joshua smiled at him, “Good to finally meet you, Duke.”

Duke nodded, pulling his hand back and putting it in his pocket, and looked Joshua up and down. He was just a kid, and a tired looking one at that; but how close to home could the other side be playing? Joshua watched him back, still smiling at him, and seeming to be either completely unaware of his slip, truly excited to meet Duke and see his sister again, or be a better player than Duke was giving him credit for. For now, Duke just placed Joshua in his “To Watch” list.

Joshua looked at his sister, “Well, shall we go in? I know of a _very_ impatient six year old, who’s ready to see her Aunt Holly.”

Holly beamed back at him, “After you.”

* * *

“When did Holly say she was going to get here?” Jennifer called to Adelaide in the kitchenette as she worked on braiding Brielle’s hair, wrapping a hair tie around the left braid. Brielle was sitting on the floor in front of the couch between Jennifer’s legs and was reading a small chapter book about seals. Little John twitched in his sleep on the rest of the couch, whimpering quietly. She glanced at him briefly and placed a hand on his stomach; he calmed almost instantly and shifted slightly next to her.

“She should be here soon,” Adelaide said from the kitchenette, “Getting nervous about your _date_?”

Jennifer rolled her eyes as Adelaide stepped back out to the main floor of the shop. She started on the right side of Brielle’s head for the second braid, “For the _last_ time, it is _not_ —,”

“Save it; I was kidding.” Adelaide cut her off, moving to behind the counter. She seemed to consider something before commenting, “You know, Momma Caverna’s café down the street has the best food on the block; why don’t you two go there for lunch? And if you see her and drop my name, I’m sure she’ll give you a discount.”

Jennifer smiled nervously, “I guess that’d be okay. Maybe we could walk around the Paul Revere Mall afterwards.”

Adelaide gave her a knowing smile before disappearing as she crouched down to look for something on the shelves.

“What am I smelling? Is it that ‘sensual amber’ perfume from that body shop? I didn’t think you liked that stuff.” Adelaide’s voice called from behind the counter.

Jennifer shrugged, “It’s not my _favorite_ but it…I dunno, it just felt like the right perfume for today, y’know?”

Soon, an up-tempo song began to play through the speakers around the shop. Brielle looked up and let out an excited sound, distracting from any response Adelaide could’ve given.

“I love this song!” She said before turning her head slightly to look at Jennifer, “Will you sing with it?”

Jennifer beamed back at her as Adelaide popped back up from behind the counter, “I _will_ , but you’ve got to keep looking forward, okay? French braided pigtails take _time_.”

“Yeah, Brielle, didn’t I ever tell you that Auntie Jen was the _best_ hair braider in grade school? This is serious business.” Adelaide quipped, leaning against the counter.

Brielle grinned at Jennifer, who was making the face she’d learned from Holly at Adelaide, before looking back at her book. Jennifer went back to working on her second braid and sang quietly, “ _We go hide away in day light_ …”

Adelaide picked through some of the stuff in the box on the counter as Jennifer continued to sing. Jennifer noticed a pale truck pull up across the street; was that the same pale truck from last night? She couldn’t be sure, but it definitely seemed familiar.

After a moment Adelaide got a sly smile on her face and leaned over the box, obscuring her face. Jennifer glanced at her, still singing, when Adelaide stood back up straight, wearing a ridiculous mask from the box.

Jennifer laughed as the song died out, “Oh good _god_ , what is _in_ that box?”

The doors to the truck across the street opened and Holly hopped out of it, slamming the door behind her. Little John’s head popped up at the sound of the doors slamming closed. He placed his head on the armrest and looked towards the street, his tail thumping gently against the cushion next to her as he surveyed the passengers of the truck climbing out of it.

Adelaide shook her head as she pulled the mask away and tossed it back into the box, “I have _no_ idea. But it’s certainly a strange collection of things. Did you see this book?” Adelaide held up _Unstake My Heart_ for Jennifer to see, “I haven’t seen a copy of this in _years_ ; especially not in this condition. What about you?”

Jennifer shrugged, “Never really paid much attention to vampire romance,”

Adelaide looked at the book, “So you don’t see anything on this book?”

Jennifer gave her a confused look, “Am I supposed to?”

Adelaide shrugged, tossing the book back onto the counter, as Jennifer finished Brielle’s second and final braid and jiggled them like they were the reins for a horse. Brielle looked back at Jennifer who grinned at her, “Congratulations, Brielle, you are now the proud owner of two Jennifer Mason Original braids!”  
Brielle leapt to her feet as she spun around and wrapped her arms around Jennifer’s neck, “Thank you, Auntie Jen!”

Jennifer hugged her back and glanced towards the street as Holly and Joshua hugged. Duke stood just to the side, smiling at both of them. He looked more assembled than he had last night, but still not well rested. He reminded her of how her mom had looked during one of the first times Jennifer had convinced her to go out after Dad had died; exhausted, and a disheveled that only came from the kind of disconnect felt after a great loss, but still willing to try.

He still had dark circles under his eyes, but there’d been some sort of peace granted to him in the last twenty-four hours that made him more relaxed. He looked calmer and Jennifer couldn’t help feeling calmer by extension.

As Brielle broke the hug and ran to Adelaide to show her the braids, Little John climbed off the couch and stretched. He kept his gaze towards the street, his tail wagging more quickly than it had before as he watched the group outside. Jennifer stood and stretched as well, as another song started to play, earning a grin from Jennifer.

“Oh I _love_ this song!” Jennifer exclaimed, “ _We’re a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea_.”

Jennifer started to dance slightly as she sang, and the door jingled open as she sang the second lyric, “ _But as long as you are with me, there’s no place I’d rather be._ ”

“Aunt Holly!” Brielle exclaimed, running to the door and into Holly’s arms.

Holly scooped up Brielle, exclaiming, “Oh, there’s my sweet little Brielle!”

Duke stepped to the side, allowing Joshua through. Unfortunately, this opened him up for Little John, who jumped enthusiastically on to Duke, knocking him to the ground.

“Oh, Jesus!” Duke exclaimed breathlessly as he fell under the weight of the giant dog. Little John started enthusiastically licking his face and Duke let out a surprised laugh despite himself.

“Oh my god! _Little John_!” Jennifer yelled, running over and wrapping her arms around his middle and pulling him off, “No! _Bad_ dog, Little John! _Off_!”

Little John backed off, whining quietly, as Jennifer pulled him off and snapped her fingers to point him back towards her room, saying sternly, “ _Get_.”

Little John trotted off, tail between his legs, as Jennifer turned back to Duke offering her hand, “I am _so_ sorry. He has _never_ done that before.”

Duke tried to smile at her as he took her hand, “Don’t worry about it, I always was a dog person.”

“Oh, I am _so_ ready to make a joke about Little John recognizing his own kind,” Holly said from behind the counter, Brielle still on her hip.

Duke mockingly sneered back at her from the floor, making Holly chuckle at him, as Jennifer smiled back at him and she pulled him up. Duke tried not to stare at her as he straightened himself out and made sure not to hold her hand any longer than would be considered normal. But, gods, he’d forgotten what her hands felt like in his; small and delicate but with a strength in them, just like her. She was wearing knee-high socks; something that, when they’d been together, usually drove him _crazy_ with want for her. And, oh Christ, he could smell her perfume. It was his favorite perfume she owned, it smelled like vanilla and…well, _warmth_ was the only other word he could think of that could truly describe it.

Warm and sweet.

Just like her.

Was she _sure_ she didn’t remember him?

“Here, let me get you something to wipe your face; I’m no stranger to Little John’s affection.” Jennifer was saying to him, gesturing towards the kitchenette. He was looking at her like he couldn’t really believe she was real, making her feel unsure of herself. She could already smell his cologne; it was the same that she’d smelled on her dad’s sweater last night.

What did that _mean_?

And it still made her feel what she had last night; warmth, safety, trust, and that promise again: “ _I’m not gonna let anything happen to you._ ”

Goddammit, what did _that_ mean?

Once they were in the kitchenette, she grabbed a washcloth from a drawer and ran water over it, saying over her shoulder, “I’m _really_ sorry about him. He’s been acting strange, lately; must be something in the water.”

“It’s, uh, it’s really not that big of a deal. I’ve, uh, I’ve had dates that’ve gone about the same way,” Duke tried to joke.

She let out a chuckle as she turned and handed him the washcloth. Duke smiled at her as he took the cloth—careful not to let his fingers brush hers—and wiped his face as he looked around the small kitchenette. The sink was directly opposite the door to shop, with a small amount of counter space in between it and the stove, which was next to the fridge. The counter wrapped around slightly, with cabinets coming from the ceiling, creating a divide between the kitchen space and the small dining area that’d been set up. There was a microwave and a coffee machine against the far wall on the counter, just next to the sink, and there was a wire-shelving unit packed with food against the wall next to the fridge. On the other side of the counter was a medium sized table, something that would easily fit more than just the three residents of the shop, with an odd assemblage of mismatched chairs from different decades to accompany it.

It was small but homey.

Exactly the kind of place Jennifer would love.

“So. A Great Dane, huh?” Duke asked, as Jennifer leaned back against the counter.

She let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, I know. I’ll tell you one thing, though, no one messes with the five-one woman walking with _that_ behemoth on a leash.”

Duke laughed, “I’ll bet. Now, ‘Little John’; did you just think that naming him ‘little’ was hilarious or…?”  
She blushed and giggled, “Well, that _was_ part of it.”

He’d forgotten that. How her cheeks and the tips of her ears would turn pink when she’d blush, and that it would make her smile that much brighter, that much warmer.

God and her _laugh_.

“My, uh, my parents’ first date was to see the Disney version of _Robin Hood_. That movie was kind of my whole childhood, so I guess I named him Little John just to pay homage to that.” Jennifer said, cross her arms and rubbing her upper arms nervously, making Duke smile at her, trying to be reassuring.

His eyes were so much kinder when he smiled.

“How long have you had him?” Duke asked.

Jennifer tilted her head, doing mental math to try to remember how long she’d had Little John, “Oh, um…hm. It’s got to be a little over five years? Maybe six?”

Duke nodded.

“You know, getting a dog had actually been Adelaide’s idea.” Jennifer said, feeling as if she needed to keep talking to fight off an awkward silence where it was just them looking at each other. Or, rather, _him_ looking at _her_ , “She was worried about me after my mom died—cancer, before you ask—so she convinced me to go with her to a friend of hers who breeds Great Danes—‘just to look’ she’d said—and the second that little six week old puppy came bounding up to me on paws too big for him…well it was love at first sight.”

Duke smiled at her as she paused, still smiling at the memory. She always talked over herself when she told personal stories, always injecting more details into them as she talked. He’d missed that.

She shifted against the counter and held her hand out to take the washcloth from him, sighing on the first word of her sentence, “Unfortunately, all that love comes with slobbery kisses, and dog hair on _all_ of my outfits.”

He handed the washcloth back to her, their fingers brushing each other lightly. Jennifer straightened slightly, a blush flashing across her face and she looked up at him. God, he was _tall_. He gave her a nervous, though attempting to be reassuring, smile.

She knew that smile.

She _remembered_ that smile

They were at the Gray Gull, and she was going for a job interview somewhere but she wanted his advice.

_“I’m really glad you’re doing this.”_

_“Earning rent money?”_

_“Staying in—,”_

There wasn’t a throb this time; it was just a memory that played through her mind, with all the emotions she’d felt at the time. It felt real and it felt natural, even if it still felt as if someone had gone through and cut out parts of what’d been said. She bit her lip anxiously, and tried to return his smile, as her stomach and heart leapt and twisted together. She turned back around and rinsed the washcloth in the sink, trying to calm the knot her stomach and heart had created down and get the respective parts of it back to their respective places.

“You, uh,” He was saying behind her, sounding nervous, “You look fantastic.”

She straightened her back, smiling down at her hands as she let washcloth hang from the edge of the sink.

“You always say that.” She said without thinking.

“What?” Duke said behind her, sounding surprised but hopeful.

She froze as she realized what she’d said, and turned to look at him. They stared at each other before Adelaide called out, “What’re you two _doing_ in there? I thought Little John only got his face!”  
Jennifer blushed harder and rushed passed Duke, avoiding his gaze, back onto the main floor of the shop. Duke moved to grab her arm, to slow her down, but thought better of it at the last second. He pulled his arm back and tried to play it off as something else; he knew this song and dance with her, it had just been so long since he’d done it. He sighed at himself before following after her to the main floor of the shop.

Joshua and the little girl who’d hugged Holly earlier—Brielle, if he’d heard right—were sitting on the couch as she showed him her book, while Holly leaned on her elbows across the counter to smile knowingly at him as he came through the curtain. The woman in the leather jacket, who he assumed was Adelaide, was giving the same smile to Jennifer as she stood opposite Holly at the counter. Jennifer glared at the both of them as she leaned down to rummaged under the counter in front of Adelaide to pull out her purse.

“You two heading out?” Adelaide asked, still looking supremely pleased with herself, “And before I’ve even been properly introduced to this young man?”

Holly laughed as Jennifer stood holding her purse, still blushing deeply, and introduced Adelaide and Duke, “Lady, this is Duke, my Grad school friend. Duke, this is Adelaide, Jennifer’s cousin.”

Adelaide held her hand out to him, grinning broadly, “Pleasure to meet you, Duke the Grad school friend.”

Duke smiled slightly and nodded, as he shook her offered hand, “Likewise, Adelaide, Jennifer’s cousin.”

He studied Adelaide for a moment, meeting her own studious gaze. He noted the tattoos that went up her neck and across her upper chest, and the fact there was a name incorporated into most of them; “Desmond.” He noticed that she had a ring on her left hand, but Holly hadn’t mentioned a husband; so, if Duke had a guess, Desmond was a _dead_ husband. He wasn’t sure what to make of a woman who wore her wounds so blatantly. He wondered what she was seeing as she looked back at him. Whatever it was that she saw, though, she seemed pleased by it, if her growing smile was any indication.

Holly tilted her head behind her towards the couch, bringing Duke’s attention back to her, “And the little cutie with the braids back there is Brielle, Adelaide’s daughter.”

Duke glanced over to the couch to see Brielle already smiling at him, “Hi!”

Duke smiled back at her, “Hi there, little lady. I like your braids.”

Brielle beamed at him, “Thanks! My Auntie did them!”

Jennifer smiled nervously back at Brielle, “Yes, I did.”

She turned back to Holly and Adelaide, “Are we good to go?”

Adelaide tsked at her, looking at her over her glasses, “Aren’t we in a _rush_ ,”

“ _Adelaide_ ,” Jennifer warned.

“ _Jennifer_ ,” Adelaide mimicked, earning an annoyed glare from Jennifer. Duke didn’t know what to think of the closeness between Jennifer and this woman who was meant to be a cousin that previously didn’t exist.

Adelaide smirked as she waved her off, “Ease up, Jen, I’m just teasing. If you look, I put your phone and your keys in your purse for you; you’re all set.”

Jennifer smiled at her, relieved, and kissed her cheek, “Adelaide, you’re magic.”

Adelaide just chuckled as Holly stiffened slightly; if anyone other than Duke noticed, they didn’t make it obvious, “You don’t know the half of it, Cos.”

Duke’s eyebrow twitched upwards slightly at the phrase Adelaide used as Jennifer giggled. She turned back to Duke, “Have you eaten? I figured we could, um…well there’s this café down the street and Adelaide’s known the owner since she was a kid and they have _really_ good food, so—,”

“That sounds great.” Duke smiled at her. Though she could’ve said that she wanted to go run across hot coals and he’d agree, so long as she wanted him there.

Jennifer smiled back, before heading towards the front doors of the shop, “Right! Well. You guys have fun! Oh! Should we meet up for dinner somewhere?”

Holly beamed at her, “I’ll text you guys if we think of something.”

Jennifer grinned, “Sounds good!” She paused and looked at Duke, “Um, unless, uh, _you_ have something going on tonight? Something better to do?”

Was she kidding? This was the _only_ thing he wanted to do.

Duke gave her a baffled look, “No. No, this is—I’m all yours for the day.”

Jennifer blushed at that and smiled at him, “Well. Alright then.”

Adelaide and Holly exchanged looks behind Duke, not unnoticed by Jennifer, as she fumbled with the door, “Okay! Well, uh, bye everyone! See you later.”

“Bye, Jen,” Adelaide and Holly said together, both saying “bye” in a sing-song voice, before looking at each other and laughing at some shared, private amusement.


	5. Chapter 5

They walked down the street in an awkward silence, both of them with their hands in their jacket pockets. For Duke it was to remove the innate temptation to reach for and hold her hand as they walked, and for Jennifer it was because she didn’t know what else to do with them. She would’ve let them swing at her side but she didn’t want to risk brushing him with her hand as she walked, thus making this already inexplicably awkward situation worse. She kept her eyes in front of her and trained on her feet as she walked, all too aware of the fact that Duke kept glancing at her as they walked; she couldn’t tell if it was like he was double checking that she was still there or if it was more like he couldn’t actually believe that she was there at all.

She wanted to say something to alleviate the painfully awkward tension that had only been exacerbated by their leaving the shop, but everything that came to mind would only make it worse. It wasn’t as if she could just get right at the heart of the matter, could she?

“Hi Duke,” she imagined saying, “I’m sure you know how weird this is already, especially given what happened last night but apparently since then I’ve started remembering things about a part of my life that I didn’t know I was missing memories on and you seem to be not only a big trigger for said memories, but also seem to be a very integral part of what I’m remembering. Thoughts?”

No, probably not.

This was definitely going to take a more delicate touch, but she wasn’t completely sure if she’d have the patience to dance around the subject for long enough to truly get all the information she wanted from him.

Duke nervously ran a hand through his hair, “Um, look, Jennifer, about last night.”

She glanced at him, secretly relieved that he was the first to speak and grateful for the distraction from her spiraling thoughts, and waited for him to continue.

“I, uh, I wasn’t in a good place last night,” He said carefully, “Not that that excuses my behavior in anyway because I was _completely_ out of line, and I want to apologize if I scared you. Uh, this past year for me has been—,”

“You’re not Holly’s friend from Grad school, are you?” Jennifer interrupted, stopping outside the entrance of the café, her resolve now firm. She hadn’t asked to meet up with Duke so that he could give her a lie about what he did or didn’t know; she’d asked to meet him to get answers, and that’s what she wanted. She wasn’t sure how she knew that he was lying or that he was about to, but something in her gut just told her that he was, and if there was one thing she was really starting to relearn since yesterday, it was to trust her gut. She looked back at the café. In gold paint on the window was written _Momma Caverna’s Bistro and Café_ , and through the window, one could see a myriad of mismatched chairs and tables along with dark green, textured walls. There were a few people already at the tables, but it seemed to be rather slow for lunchtime.

Duke didn’t try to hide his surprise, “What?”

Jennifer sighed, shifting from foot to foot as she repeated herself, “You’re not Holly’s friend from Grad school, are you? And, please, spare me the placating lie about—,”

“I would _never_ lie to you.” Duke said firmly, interrupting her this time. She looked at him, studying him. His voice was serious, and there was a set in his jaw as he met her gaze.

She found that she trusted him. Or at the very least, she trusted what he’d told her. He looked too serious, too desperate for her understanding to just be trying to placate her. She nodded finally, demonstrating that she understood him. Maybe they _could_ skip the beating around the bush part of finding out what he knew.

He risked taking the slightest step closer to her. When she didn’t pull away, he said, “Look, Jennifer, if there’s something you want to ask me, if there’s something you want to know, I _will_ tell you. No tricks, no lies, just the truth as I know it. Now, I can’t guarantee that the answers you want or need will be there, but you’ll at least know what I know.”

Jennifer nodded again, “Alright. So. Are you _actually_ a friend of Holly’s from Graduate school?”

Duke smirked as he turned and held the door of the café open for her, “No. In fact, I think the only time I’ve ever been on a college campus was for fairly illicit activities.”

Jennifer let herself chuckle at that as she walked into the café, “Let me guess, something to write to _Penthouse_ about?”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t know anything about _that_ ,” he smiled after her.

The smell of fresh bread hit her full force and brought her attention to just how hungry she actually was. A young woman behind the counter at the back of the café smiled at them, “Hello! I’m Cadie, and I’ll be your server today.”

Jennifer beamed back at her, “Hi Cadie! Just a minute, please.”

The woman just nodded, “However long you need.”

Jennifer grinned back and turned to Duke, her expression serious, “I’m going to need you to not judge me for how much I’m probably going to eat while we’re here; they have _really_ food.”

Duke smiled back, “I would never.”

She pointed at him, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Besides, if the food is as good as you say, I’ll probably eat more than you.” He said, earning a laugh out of Jennifer.

They ordered; Duke asked Jennifer what she’d recommend, since she seemed to be much more familiar with the menu than he was, and they sat in a pair of overstuffed arm chairs positioned across each other with a coffee table in between them. Jennifer pulled her legs up underneath her as she sat, adjusting her skirt and getting immediately cozy, where as Duke sank deeply into the cushions of the armchair to the point where the only position he could manage was slouching. He was just barely able to keep his chin from hitting his chest.

Jennifer giggled at him, making him smile at her, “Comfy chair.”

She shrugged back, still smiling, “I imagine it helps to be petite like me.”

“Oh, well _now_ you tell me.” Duke said rolling his eyes at her but smiling. She rolled her eyes back at him, still smiling at him. There was a lull in their conversation, both glancing momentarily around the café and listening to the acoustic music that was playing over the speakers.

Jennifer took a chance to look around. The café was mostly empty space, allowing for plenty of tables and chairs, but also keeping it from feeling too claustrophobic. The walls were covered in masks ranging in style and color, making for some rather interesting juxtaposition of things, along with a collection of photos that Jennifer assumed had been taken by the owner of the café. The images varied from black and white to color and all of them were absolutely beautiful. The furniture of the café looked to be an assembly of garage sale rejects, thrift store treasures, and perhaps a few dumpster diving incidents, if Jennifer had to guess. Paper lanterns of every shape and design hung from the ceiling, along with white twinkle lights. The twinkle lights and some antique lamps provided most of the light for the café that the front windows didn’t already let in, giving it an incredibly homey feel.

Jennifer could understand why Adelaide loved coming here; it was like being in your grandmother’s kitchen while she made your favorite meal. It helped her to feel more relaxed across from Duke, who continued to try to keep his glancing at her as discrete as he could. It wasn’t _that_ discrete, however, since Jennifer continued to know exactly what he was doing.

She didn’t feel completely _uncomfortable_ when he looked at her, in fact she didn’t feel uncomfortable around him at all. She just didn’t know what he was _seeing_ when he looked at her like he did. She didn’t know if _she_ was what he was looking at, or if he was only seeing what he _thought_ she should be.

After a moment, Duke spoke, “So. Why did you want to see me today?”

Jennifer blushed in response and averted her eyes, grumbling, “Leave it to Holly to be discrete.”

Before Duke could say anything, the waitress, Cadie as she so happily introduced herself, came and placed their orders on the coffee table between them. Jennifer smiled at her as she came and left, and immediately dug into her macaroni and cheese. She closed her eyes as she chewed, sinking into the chair with the bowl in her hands. Her dad used to make the _best_ macaroni and cheese, and no matter how hard she tried, she’d never been able to get it quite right, but _this_. This was a whole new level of cheesy goodness. It wasn’t Dad’s, but it was as close as anyone else could get she was sure.

Duke glanced at her, taking a bite out of his sandwich, “And don’t think that this delicious food is going to distract me from my question.”

Jennifer came back to herself and sighed back at him before nodding, “Right. Well. Um.”

“Eloquently put,” Duke commented, smirking at her over the edge of his coffee mug.

She sneered jokingly at him, “I’m getting there.”

Duke just nodded at her as he took a drink, trying to keep himself from saying anything else snarky. God, it was like nothing had changed; she still didn’t put up with his shit, she was still just as snarky and witty as he remembered her, it was so _close_ to being how it used to be.

_“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”_

Except that it wasn’t.

She sighed, “I think that our best plan of action here is just to agree to be upfront with each other.”

He gave her a confused look as he set his mug down; that was some _damn_ fine coffee.

“You said you’d never lie to me; the least I can do is say the same. I won’t lie to you.” She said matter-of-factly, “However, I won’t blame you if you think I’m _completely_ crazy after I explain myself.”

“You’re not crazy.” He said easily, as if he was talking about the weather.

She let out a laugh through her nose as she swapped her macaroni and cheese for her own coffee mug and brought it to her lips, “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

He shrugged at her, “I don’t need to. You’re not crazy.”

She studied him over her mug, looking for some sort of tell to help her understand what he was thinking. He met her gaze, however, keeping it steady. She held his gaze for a moment longer before breaking it and glancing at the contents of her mug. Something told her that he was too practiced for her to be able to tell anyway. But it was more than that; something in his gaze made her struggle to _breathe_ let alone focus enough on his behavior to figure out if he’s lying to her or not.

Finally, she just sighed, shaking her head, and decided to just dive in, “Do you…you wouldn’t happen to own a bar called _The Gray Gull,_ would you?”

Duke nodded, “I do.”

Jennifer arched an eyebrow at him, “You don’t seem surprised that I asked. Holly again?”

Duke gave her a sly smile, “Who else?”

Jennifer sighed and rubbed her forehead as she set her mug back down onto the table. She gestured towards him with her freed hands, “Okay, so what did Holly tell you?”

“That you’d been in a sailing accident about a year ago and that you’d recently started getting, um, _throbs_ that would lead to what she called, uh, ‘memory flashes,’ I think? And that you recently remembered something that led to…well, that led to me.” Duke said. He wasn’t sure what to say yet; he wanted to tell her everything about them, about Haven, about what he and Holly spoke about the night before, _all_ of it, right then, but he knew it would be best to wait.

He had to believe that it would come back to her, that she was every bit as stubborn and determined enough that it wouldn’t be hidden from her for long, just like he remembered her.

She’d come back.

And he’d be there, waiting for her.

Jennifer nodded as she grabbed her macaroni and chees from the table to finish it off, “Okay, so you’re about up to speed then; even if you do seem _shockingly_ calm about this whole thing.”

Duke shrugged, offering her a smile, “Let’s just say that my life has kind of made me… _immune_ to being shocked by this kind of thing.”

She breathed out a laugh, “You’ll have to tell me, sometime, about just _what_ kind of life you’ve been leading.”

His eyes lit up as he smiled back at her, “I’d like to.”

She smiled nervously at him before trying to explain more of the situation to him, “See—,” she went to gesture with her spoon as if she were conducting an orchestra before pausing, trying to gather her words, “—when you…when I met you, last night, it was…it was like something…I guess it was like something was knocked loose.”

She sighed, using the spoon to clean out the bowl before she set them both back onto the table, and grabbed one of the brownie cookies she’d bought with her meal from the bag the waitress had put them in, placing the rest into her purse to save for Adelaide and Brielle when she got home. She curled back into the seat with the cookie and the last of her coffee, and tried to continue, “So, as you know, I told Holly and she told me I should um, _push_ on the throbs so that I could remember and what I remembered was—,”

“The Gull.” He finished for her, sighing, as he leaned forward to pick up her emptied bowl and place it on his now emptied place.

She nodded, “And…well, and you.”

Duke looked at her in surprise, a small smile spreading across his face, “Yeah?”

She shifted slightly in her chair, suddenly nervous under his look of hope and joy, “Yes. Well, sort of. I mean, I don’t know if it’s real or if it even _happened_ —which is kind of happening a lot, actually—but that’s a lot more complicated than I really understand right now—but…It’s, uh, it’s kind of hard to explain unless, you know, it’s _happening_ to you, but, uh, well, see…”

She paused again, trying to get her words right. The cookie consumed, she ran her finger around the rim of her mug absently. What was it about this guy that made her second guess her words? She was a journalist for Christ’s sake, _no one_ made her nervous about her words. And yet here he was, tying her tongue in knots and looking at her so intensely, he made it hard to breathe. She sighed, pushing those thoughts away, and began again, “I remember being at the, uh, the Gull, and I remember you being there and I, uh, I remember…You’d asked me to stay…with you.”

Duke rubbed his chin nervously and nodded, “Yeah. I did.”

She looked at him, wide eyed, “You…you mean it _actually_ happened?”

She didn’t mean to sound disbelieving, but part of her had been thoroughly convinced that her mind was making things up—that this was some sort of residual effect from the sailing accident. But it was _true_?

“Oh. Oh my _god_ ,” she breathed, “oh, no _wonder_ you reacted like you—wait a minute, _when_ did that happen?—No wait, you asked me how I could be alive; did…oh my God, did I _die_? But how could that—I mean, I’m clearly _not_ — wait, what else can—?”

Duke held up a hand to signal her to slow down, “Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ Short Stack. Pump your brakes.”

She paused and took a deep breath. There was that nickname again. When she looked to have calmed down a little, Duke spoke carefully, “Like I told you, I will _never_ lie to you, okay? Do you believe that?”

She nodded, giving him a confused look.

“Okay. I will stand by that, I will, but I don’t think telling you everything _I_ know about the past year, year and a half, _whatever_ , right this second is going to help you—at least not how you think it will.”

He wanted to grab her hand, to do something that would comfort her and convince her of his sincerity. Instead he just, nervously, placed his hand on the table in front of her with his fingers splayed.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, or what he wanted her to do, but when she tentatively placed her hand in front of his on the table and let her fingers rest in the spaces between his there, he knew that that was more than enough. She wasn’t touching him, but she was close and that was enough.

“I _will_ answer any question you ask me, though.” He said carefully, ducking slightly to look at her even as she kept her gaze on their barely-not-touching fingers, “All you have to do is ask.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, sighing, before opening her eyes to look at him and asking, “Were we together?”

“Yes.” Duke said quietly.

“Were, uh,” her voice broke slightly, “Were we happy?”

“I like to think so.” He replied, smiling nervously at her.

“Did…” she swallowed around the lump in her throat. Did she really want to ask this question? Did she really want to know the _answer_?

“Did I die?”

“Yes.” Duke answered, his own voice cracking. He cleared his throat before asking his own question, “Do you…do you remember how?”

She shook her head and chewed her lip for a moment, “No. Not yet anyway.”

 _And judging from the way you’re looking at me, I’m not too sure I_ want _to remember._ She thought to herself.

There was a pause as she tried to wrap her mind around what he’d told her.

“I died.” She said it quietly, doing what she’d done as a child after a nightmare; if she talked about it, maybe it would be less real. The problem with that, however, was that this revelation didn’t feel _wrong_ ; there was no feeling of rejection or of a _wrongness_ of what he said.

She died.

She could just feel that that was right. But why couldn’t she _remember_? What was keeping the memories from coming back? Why couldn’t she remember _more_?

She let out a heartbroken laugh as another, albeit more cynical, thought occurred to her, “I died. But I got better, huh?”

Duke shook his head at her, smiling despite himself—leave it to her to find some way to make a joke about finding out something like that.

“Um…” she said carefully, pulling her hand off the table and setting it in her lap. She bit her lip for a moment, staring at her hands, before asking, “How, uh,…how long did…did you think I was dead?”

He swallowed and pulled his own hand off the table to lean back in his chair, “Um. About a year.”

She furrowed her brow at him, curling up further into the chair like she was trying to protect herself from his answer and her own questions, “A year? But why…?”

She paused and narrowed her eyes in confusion at him, “Why did you come to Boston?”

“A friend of ours,” Duke answered carefully, “from when you were…when you were with me; he was the one who told me—well, see you had made him a contact on your credit cards ‘cause where I’m from was kind of—well to put it mildly it was pretty _crazy_ until a couple of months ago—,”

“And where are you from?” Jennifer interrupted, still curled up into herself in the armchair, even crossing her arms over her chest like she was trying to make herself even smaller than she already was.

“Uh, Haven. Haven, Maine?” Duke answered, watching her carefully and trying to discern if the name caused anything else to be “knocked loose,” as she put it. Jennifer _wanted_ something to happen, for the blanks in her newly discovered memories to be filled in with the name of the town but…there was nothing. There was barely a throb at the revelation.

God _dammit_ why couldn’t she remember?

When she shook her head at him, communicating that the name didn’t do anything to trigger her memories, he sighed, but continued where he’d left off, “Our friend got, uh, got a ‘ding’ on your cards being used and he came to me and he told me about it, and I figured that meant someone had stolen your identity so I came down here to deal with it and—,”

“And you came down here, after a _year_ , because you heard there might be a _possibility_ of someone stealing your dead girlfriend’s identity?” She asked, smirking at him.

He bowed his head as he smiled, “I mean…when you put it like _that_ …”

Jennifer laughed slightly, shaking her head, “Jesus, you must’ve really l—,”

She stopped herself before she finished the thought and made this already awkward situation that much worse—especially by assuming something like that. Duke tensed, knowing what the rest of that question was going to be, and nodded, “Yeah.”

They looked at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say or do next, before he hit his hands on his knees as if he’d made a decision. He moved to the edge of his seat, “Uh, you know, I think I could use a _walk_. I don’t usually eat food _this_ rich.”  
Jennifer shook her head as he stood, and said, without thinking, “I imagine it takes a lot of physical activity to maintain a body like that.”

Duke laughed at her as she looked up at him in horror and realized what she’d said, “Jennifer Mason, are you _flirting_ with me?”

Jennifer flushed back at him, looking away from him and stammering, “I would—I mean I wasn’t _looking_ —not really—I mean—,”

He offered her his hand, still laughing at her, “Deep breath, Jennifer, I’m only teasing.”

“Can you just pretend that didn’t happen?” She asked, lightly touching her forehead in embarrassment.

Duke just chuckled at her as she took his hand and stood, finally uncurling from herself. Without thinking, she turned her hand and entwined her fingers with his, appreciating the roughness of his palm against hers and how his fingers seemed to engulf hers even while letting her own exist on their own. Duke tensed, unsure of what to do with how easily she’d taken his hand; it was just like she used to do, it was like she was remembering but he was too scared to let himself hope for that. She looked down at their hands as he stared at her and smiled fondly at their conjoined hands, “I thought everyone was staring at us.”

“What?” he said in surprise.

She looked up at him as the memory played out calmly behind her eyes, like she was watching an old home movie. There was a gloss to her eyes, like she wasn’t really seeing him and _that_ was making Duke nervous, “The first time we held hands in public, I thought everyone was looking at us and you…you pulled me into the gazebo because you knew something was bothering me and you said to me, ‘If anyone’s looking at us, they’re—,’”

“‘They’re looking at _me_ and wondering what the _hell_ a guy like _me_ is doing with a girl like _you_.’” Duke finished for her, still looking at her in amazement.

* * *

She smiled dreamily at him, “And I asked you, ‘A girl like me?’ and you said…you told me that I was _perfect_.”

Duke turned his body towards her and risked touching her neck, just like he used to, and bowed to look in her eyes and hoped that maybe the gloss to her eyes would be lessened or that it wasn’t nearly as dangerous as Duke thought it was, “What else, Jennifer? What else do you remember?”

Her eyes slowly cleared and she shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the cobwebs that seemed to form there as the memory had played, “Just that. Isn’t that enough for now?”

When she looked back up to him, her eyes were back to being clear and alert. She looked at him with her own surprise, realizing what had happened. When she went back into her mind to see if she could still remember it clearly or if it would be another kind of after-image memory like what she’d remembered of the Gray Gull, it was still clear.

She _felt_ it.

It was _hers._

Finally.

She smiled at him, “Oh, that’s _new_.”

He pulled his hand back from her neck, suddenly too conscious of the intimacy of the act and knowing it wouldn’t mean the same to her as it did to him; not yet anyway. He studied her carefully, “What…what did…” he sighed and tried again, “Are you okay?”

She tugged on his hand and moved towards the door of the café, “Let’s, um…let’s go for that walk.”

* * *

Adelaide glanced at Holly as she laughed and the door jingled closed behind Duke and Jennifer. She looked to Joshua who was already looking at her, a waiting question on his face.

 _That’s a good plucky young assistant_ , Adelaide thought, smirking to herself.

“Sweetness?” Adelaide said, turning gaze from Joshua and getting Brielle’s attention.

She looked up from her book next to Joshua and beamed at Adelaide, “Yes, Momma?”

“Why don’t you go on up and get your jacket so we can get going? Maybe Mr. Joshua will help you on your Jacket Hunt.” Adelaide smiled at her.

Brielle bounced off the couch, “Okay!”

She turned and grabbed Joshua’s hand, pulling him to his feet, “C’mon, Mr. Joshua. Momma fixed my dollhouse since last time you were here; they have a _pool_ now!”

Joshua just smiled down at Brielle before shooting Adelaide a pointed look. She just kept smiling at him as Brielle led Joshua upstairs, telling him all about the family that lived in her dollhouse and all their, rather dramatic, familial troubles.

Holly glanced around the shop and sighed wistfully, “Not a _single_ thing has changed about this shop since I was here last.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” Adelaide smirked, “I _know_ I’ve changed the beaded curtains since you were last here.”

Holly giggled at her, still looking around the room, “You know I think you’re right. The Mona Lisa one had to’ve been up by the loft last time. And is the galaxy one new?”

Adelaide didn’t say anything to that and instead placed her hands on the counter and regarded Holly, her expression turning serious, “How long have you known.”

It was meant to be a question, Holly was almost sure, but her tone made it more of a statement.

Holly scoffed nervously at Adelaide as she turned towards the couch, her stomach lurching slightly in panic, “Known? Known what? That you’re interior decorating is awful?”

Adelaide arched an eyebrow at her as a small, stiff smile appeared on her face, “Ah. So _that’s_ where Jennifer learned her _brilliant_ deflection strategy.”

Holly laughed, sitting down on the couch and crossing her arms and legs, “Oh, that girl couldn’t lie her way out of a paper bag.”

“And right now, neither can you.” Adelaide’s features were still rigid and the smile disappeared almost as soon as it appeared, “Holly, I’m only going to ask one more time and I _need_ you to be up front with me, alright? You— _we_ owe each other that much.”

Holly’s eyebrow quirked slightly, demonstrating her initial skepticism, but sighed and straightened her posture as she looked at Adelaide and nodded.

“Holly, how long have you known?”

“About Jennifer?” Holly asked, meeting her gaze steadily and adjusting her arms across her chest to tighten them around herself, “Or about you?”

Adelaide’s eyebrow twitched slightly in what Holly assumed was surprise as she crossed her own arms over her chest and straightened her posture, “I imagine they’re fairly intertwined.”

Holly nodded and sighed the first word of her sentence, “Then, I suppose I’ve known since I first spoke to Jennifer last week. What gave me away?”

Adelaide smiled humorlessly and shook her head, “Oh, Holly. You’re good, but you’re not _that_ good.”

Holly narrowed her eyes at her as she continued, “When Jennifer called me ‘magic,’ I’m pretty sure _everyone_ saw the way you stiffened.”

“Alright, I’m easy to read. So do you want to tell me just what the ever loving _fuck_ is going on here?” Holly asked, her annoyance clear in the way she bounced her foot in the air.

Adelaide sighed, rubbing her forehead and uncrossing her arms to gesture emphatically as she spoke, “Let me…let me just _guess_ how that conversation with Jennifer went last week.”

Holly arched an eyebrow at her as Adelaide took a step back towards to counter to brace herself there, “Is that necessary?”

Adelaide shrugged noncommittally, “ _I_ think so; mostly just to make sure that we’re on the same page.”

Holly studied her for a moment, trying to figure out either what Adelaide’s goal was, or waiting to see some sort of crack in her façade. When nothing showed itself in Adelaide’s eyes, Holly sighed, uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, and folded her hands on her knees as she nodded to Adelaide for her to begin.

Adelaide rolled her shoulders and began, “So until you’d spoken to Jennifer a week ago, you hadn’t really heard or seen anything from her in a while—and usually when you haven’t heard from her in awhile, you start getting nervous but for some reason that just didn’t happen until some significant time had passed—and just when you were starting to get _really_ worried about it—like “seriously contemplating calling the police” _worried_ about it—there she was, on the other side of the line. As if nothing had happened, as if no time at all had passed since the last time you spoke to her.”

Holly nodded, looking at Adelaide in bewilderment.

Adelaide continued, her tone remained even, almost as if she was talking about something as mundane as the weather, “And the second—the _second_ you heard her voice, all these, these _memories,_ like pictures in a story book, came and fixed any questions you had for her about all the time that’d passed where you hadn’t heard from her.” Adelaide tilted her head to the side, still studying Holly as if she were reading all these facts from her like she was one of the books around them before walking around the counter and continuing, “And while she was talking to you, all excited about seeing you—and maybe you found some small part of you surprised at her timing; How could she have known about how much free time you were going to have? How could her timing possibly be _that_ good? After all, you didn’t _really_ remember making any plans for a visit the last time you spoke to her—but there she was, talking all excitedly about seeing you next week and there they were, all these brand new memories about all these plans you both had made for when you came back to Boston. And then maybe she mentioned me, or my daughter, or, hell, even _Little John_ , and then there was a whole _other_ set of memories of me and who I was and the role I’d played in Jennifer’s—and even your—life, so before you could even ask, ‘Who’s Adelaide?’ you had all the answers you didn’t even know you needed. Am I right?”

Holly nodded again, her features fixed in surprise.

Adelaide nodded back as she leaned back against the counter to regard Holly as she said, “Okay. So. Tell me what _you_ know, Holly.”

“I…” Holly stammered uncrossing her legs finally and leaning forward until her elbows were pressed into her knees, “I have two sets of memories. One with you, and one without.”

Adelaide nodded, unfazed, “I figured something like this would happen; I just figured it’d be someone with a little more… _distance_ from Jennifer.” She paused before sighing, apparently in agitation but Holly could feel that the agitation wasn’t at her as she rubbed her forehead, “And I’m sorry to say that a lot of your memories are…they’re going to be kind of a mess. At least until…until certain things have _settled_.”

Holly kept staring at her, still swimming in her confusion, as Adelaide rolled her head back against her shoulders so she was looking up at the ceiling as she mumbled to herself, “God, it’s like they aren’t even _trying_ …”

Holly shook off her confusion and glared at Adelaide, “Jennifer died.”

Adelaide brought her head back down and nodded sympathetically, “Yes. She was, uh—,” Adelaide mimed air quotes, “—‘dead’ for about a year. When she called you last week, she’d been in my custody for about a…” Adelaide paused, suddenly seeming nervous, before carefully saying, “for, uh, for about a month.”

“A _month_?” Holly said loudly as she rose to her feet, “Jennifer’s been alive for over a fucking _month_ and—,”

“Keep. Your voice. _Down_.” Adelaide said through clenched teeth, pushing herself away from the counter to lean closer to Holly, and glared at her as Holly started to walk towards Adelaide. She pointedly glanced towards the loft as if she were worried that Joshua or Brielle were going to hear them.

Holly scoffed at her, turning from her and daring to raise her voice further, challenging Adelaide, “You want to fucking tell _me_ to—,”

“ _Holly_.” Adelaide cut her off, voice full of venom, and giving Holly a look that could freeze the heart of a volcano. Holly spun back around, primed to say something brief and rather indecent, but held her tongue when she saw the look on Adelaide’s face. Instead, she opted to just narrow her eyes at Adelaide as she continued, still gesturing emphatically as she spoke, “I understand that you are _frustrated_ and _pissed off_ and you have _every_ right to be all of those things, but you _have_ to know that I am your _ally_ in all this. Even if I’m no longer your friend, even if you don’t trust me as far as you can throw me, Jesus, even if you hate me—you _have_ to believe that I only want what is best for you, for Jennifer _and_ Duke, and everyone _else_ that’s become involved with or effected by what’s happened over the last year.”

Holly scoffed at her, “What’s ‘ _best_ ’? What is—what is _best_ about Jennifer not remembering the last year of her life? What is _best_ about me having two sets of memories? How the _fuck_ are you going to set this right, Adelaide? What are you gonna do? Huh? You got some way to fuck up and then fix my memories? Fix _Jennifer’s_?”

Adelaide looked at her with what could be described as hurt, if Holly wasn’t so pissed, as she shook her head and stammered, “I—I don’t—that’s not really my _job_ , Holly. I can only tell you that…that everything’s going be righted and when it is, your memories will be as well. Things are… _unsettled_ enough right now that they have the potential to be righted like they need to be.”

“What about _later_?” Holly demanded.

Adelaide stared down at her feet like a child caught in a lie, and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

Holly threw her hands up in frustration, nearly yelling again, “Jesus, Adelaide, what _do_ you know?”

At that, Adelaide looked at her, a determine set in her jaw, “That I can help.”

Holly smirked at her, some of her anger receding slightly despite her wanting to cling to it, “You seem pretty certain about that. You some kind of guardian angel or something?”

Adelaide just shook her head, smiling slightly as she walked back around the counter to stand, and watched Holly, “Nah. I’m just a bookstore owner.”

Holly rolled her eyes at her, letting out a slight chuckle. God help her, she _wanted_ to hate Adelaide, or at the very least _distrust_ her, but whatever bond they had, manufactured or otherwise, had become real to her. She _felt_ it. Unlike her memories of her, what she felt towards Adelaide was real. Adelaide was as important to her as Jennifer was, and if she couldn’t stay mad at Jennifer for long, there was no way she’d be able to stay mad at Adelaide. She was still younger than Holly, and she was just as baffled by the situation as the rest of them—even if she did seem to have a better grasp on the whole thing than anyone else involved. There was a pause as Holly came back to the counter, now to stand opposite of Adelaide before she finally asked, “You’re my ‘ally,’ huh?”

Adelaide nodded, “I am.”

Holly raised her eyebrows as she nodded, placing her hands on the counter and lightly tapping her fingers against it, “Okay. _Ally_. So if I ask you a question, you’ll tell me the truth?”

Adelaide nodded, “To the best of my ability.”

Holly nodded again, “Okay. Who took Jennifer?”

“People…” Adelaide began before pausing briefly, considering her next words carefully, when she couldn’t find whatever words she was looking for, she just sighed, “People with a lot of power who think they know how the world _should_ be.”

Holly smiled humorlessly, “So _politicians_ took Jennifer?”

Adelaide rolled her eyes, “Aha, a comedian.”

“I’m here all month,” Holly quipped, before her expression became serious again, “Do you work for them?”

Adelaide leveled her gaze at her; “I did. Only long enough to get Jennifer here and to see how… _far_ their influence on her had gone. The moment I had to tell her that what was _probably_ a memory throb ‘wasn’t important,’ my employment with them ended.”

“How long did that take?” Holly asked, though part of her felt like she knew the answer already.

“I’m sorry to say that I only _officially_ cut ties with them yesterday.” Adelaide admitted.

Holly considered this for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration, as she seemed to find a spot on the counter to fixate on before asking her next question, “Is she safe here?”

“I understand your concern,” Adelaide sighed, moving her hands from the counter and crossing her arms over her chest as she continued, “especially given my previous admission but you have to believe me when I say, _yes_ , she’s safe here. For now, this is _the_ safest place she can be.”

Something seemed to occur to her, making Adelaide smirk as she added, “Now _Duke_ , I’m sure, would prefer to believe that she’d be the safest on the Rouge, with him, but until…until Jennifer remembers _everything_ , she _has_ to stay here.”

“Shouldn’t that be her choice?” Holly asked; she pulled her gaze from the spot she’d been studying to look at Adelaide. Jennifer was many things, and among those things, and despite Holly’s teasing, she was strong and she was _stubborn_. If Holly knew even just one thing about Jennifer Mason, it was that _no one_ told her what to do or stopped her from getting what she wanted. If Jennifer wanted to be with Duke, she would be; consequences be damned. And while she admired and loved that about Jennifer, this whole situation was proving that that could prove to be a very dangerous thing for her if she wasn’t careful.

Adelaide smiled, “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Holly; blatant and rockin’ fashion sense aside.”

Holly rolled her eyes but she smiled at her, Adelaide continued, “When the time comes for Jennifer to make her choice, it _will_ be hers. But she deserves to know everything first—to find her way to those answers on her own terms—she’s had to deal with too many half-truths and full lies lately. Asking to make this or any kind of commitment _now_ would be horribly unfair—to her, to Duke, to you, just, to everyone involved in this. Things…things still aren’t quite _set_ , yet.”

Holly shook her head and gestured at Adelaide, “You keep saying that, but what does that _mean_? Do you always speak in riddles?”

Adelaide smiled and shrugged, “Went to the school of the Sphinx, what can I say?”

Holly rolled her eyes, something she was becoming an expert at, “Right. I’m sure that’s where _all_ —,” Holly raised her fingers to mime air quotes at Adelaide, “—‘bookstore owners’ go.”

Adelaide just chuckled at her as she stepped back from the counter and leaned against the bookshelves there, waiting for Holly to continue whatever else she had in mind to ask her.

“What did— _do_ these people—with all that power that you mentioned earlier—want with Jennifer, anyway?” Holly asked.

Adelaide studied her briefly before asking, “When you and Jennifer were younger and you’d get together, did anything strange happen?”

Holly scoffed, waggling her fingers at Adelaide as she spoke, “What, like she saw into the future or knew things about people she just couldn’t know?”

Adelaide gave her a small smile, even chuckling a little at Holly, “No, no, nothing like that. It wouldn’t have been that extreme. It would’ve been…small. Something that wouldn’t seem strange until you really started to think about it—and that’s what I’m asking you to do now— _really_ think about it, Holly.”

Holly rolled her eyes as she thought briefly. Her face stayed incredulous as she thought, shaking her head slightly until one thing stood out to her and her brow furrowed. She kept her eyes focused on a spot in the carpet as she spoke, “She…she could just _find_ things, you know? Like if something or someone was lost, or hidden, Jennifer would find it like it was as plain as the nose on your face.”

Adelaide nodded as Holly continued, “When she couldn’t find anything out about her birth parents she told me that something felt really _wrong_ about it, you know? I mean, she’d never put too much stock into her weird subtalent, but it just seemed too…”

Holly let the thought end as realization hit her and she finally looked at Adelaide, “Oh wait a fucking _minute_ , is _that_ what they wanted? ‘Cause she can find keys and—?”

“Holly, I’ve agreed to be up front with you, the _least_ you can do is do the same for me.” Adelaide interrupted.

Holly gave her a surprised, nervous look, “What are you…?”

Adelaide looked at her knowingly, “You know she’s able to find _more_ than just lost knick-knacks.”

Holly chewed the inside of her cheek for a second before saying carefully, “Duke…Duke and I talked last night after he saw Jennifer and was kind of—uh, but, anyway. I…I remembered him from one of my memory—I dunno, sets?—and he told me about what happened in Haven; about Jennifer’s importance there. Which I’m assuming you know all about?”

At Adelaide’s nod, Holly nodded and continued, “So yeah. I know she can find more than just knick-knacks.”

Adelaide nodded, “So imagine, then, that you are one of those people with a lot of power who think they know how the world _should_ be, and then there’s some…some _free radical_ , unaligned with anything or any _one_ that is out there in the world. Just…left to have this ability, unchecked, finding things she should _not_ find, knowing things she should _not_ know. No one knows where her loyalties lie, no one knows what she’s capable of or what she knows, and some of those ‘no one’s—some of whom are people like you in this scenario—are none too keen to find out or to wait until she makes a move; what do you think would be their, or even _your_ , first move?”

“I…I don’t—,” Holly stammered, too scared of the answer to Adelaide’s question to want to verbalize it and pulling her arms back around herself.

“Yes you do, Holly.” Adelaide interrupted. She didn’t sound impatient, she just tried to goad Holly towards the answer she knew she had so that they’d be on the same page, “You’ve read enough books, you know the patterns—what do you think the first move of some of those big bad ‘no one’s would be? Even of some of those people like you?”

“They’d, um,” Holly said, her voice cracking slightly, shifting her weight from one foot to another, and looking down at her feet to keep Adelaide from seeing the beginnings of tears in her eyes, “They’d kill her.”

Adelaide nodded, choosing not to bring any attention Holly’s strong reaction to the question or answer, “Exactly. She dies, things that are hidden stay that way, doors that are locked stay locked, and the world just keeps spinning, just like it always has; at least that’s what they seem to think.”

“What do _you_ think?” Holly asked nervously, looking up from her feet now that her emotions were more in check.

Adelaide shrugged dismissively, “The Buddha once said that three things cannot remain long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”

Holly smiled mirthlessly, shaking her head at Adelaide, “And a great FBI agent once said, ‘the truth is out there.’”

Adelaide just smiled back at her, before letting her face shift back into careful contemplation as she regarded Holly and braced herself behind her on one of the bookshelves that she was leaning against; she could see that there was something else that Holly wanted to say or ask her and she wanted to make sure she was able to give her the right answer.

At least the right answer for _now._

“But what’s…?” Holly started to ask before trying again, “But what’s keeping them from—what makes here so much _safer_? Duke said that all that…all that _stuff_ in Haven was over, and that Jennifer’s _thing_ would be—or was? that part got kind of confusing—it _should_ be over with it.” Holly asked, clearing her throat slightly and focusing on Adelaide. She could feel panicked and scared tears stinging her eyes again but she refused to let them win out. _There’s no crying in baseball_ , she thought to herself, rolling her shoulders and steeling herself.

Adelaide sighed, “Unfortunately, Duke’s under the mistaken impression that Haven was the only…uh, _troubled_ spot in the world. Jennifer’s… _thing_ , as you put it, is a bit more…well, a bit more _universal_. As to what makes this place safer: I do. _I’m_ why this place is the safest place for her.” Adelaide finished, taking a step forward to stop leaning against the bookshelves and bracing herself on the counter instead.

Holly scoffed at her, “How is that supposed to make me feel _better_? What even _are_ y—?”

“Holly,” Adelaide said sternly, holding up her hand to cut Holly off, “I already _told_ you what I am but because I know this is going to get brought up a lot, I’ll just tell you again; I’m a bookstore owner.”

Holly rubbed her forehead, but didn’t say anything more. She had the feeling that no matter how hard she pushed, or how many times she asked—even if Adelaide seemed very prepared for this question to come up more than once—that was going to be the only answer she got out of Adelaide. A pause settled on them as Holly gathered her thoughts again. Finally, she realized that she only had two more pressing issues to ask Adelaide about, and she really wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answers to either of them.

“What, um,” Holly began, suddenly shifting nervously and chewing the corner of her lip briefly, “What do you know about me? About Jennifer, and Duke, and…and Josh?”

Adelaide’s expression softened at the mention of Josh, empathetic to Holly’s worry, as she replied, “I know everything that your memories tell you that I know, and nothing more.”

“Okay so what does that _mean_?” Holly leaned heavily against the counter, looking eager, “Are your memories of us like our—or I guess just my—memories of you? Or are _yours_ real?”

“Holly, my memories…” Adelaide paused, biting the inside of her cheek as she turned her gaze to a spot on the counter, and sighed, “The topic of my memories is a…a _very_ complicated conversation for a _very_ different time. All that _matters_ is that I…I feel…”

She let out a breath and then nervously reached for Holly’s hand on the counter. When Holly didn’t pull it away, Adelaide carefully placed her hand on top of hers and squeezed it, “I _feel_ like you and Jennifer are part of my family—no. Wait. I feel like you two _are_ my family and that you’re all I have left—and I don’t want to lose that.”

Holly stared at their hands for a moment before she shifted her own hand under Adelaide’s and squeezed hers back. They looked at each other, smiling nervously at each other, before Holly rolled her eyes at her, “Jesus, Adelaide, when did you get all sentimental?”

Adelaide coughed on a laugh, rolling her shoulders slightly, “Guess there’s something in the water.”

Holly laughed back at her, giving Adelaide’s hand another squeeze before letting it go. They stood in silence momentarily, only to have it interrupted by a few loud thumps from the loft and the sound of uproarious little girl laughter.

Adelaide looked towards the stairs, laughing as she yelled, “That doesn’t sound like Jacket Hunting!”

“Sorry, Momma!” came the loud reply from up the stairs.

“Sorry, Ms. Adelaide!” Joshua yelled as well.

Adelaide laughed as she looked back to Holly, “I think I left one child to watch another.”

Holly smiled slightly back, but her expression was as if she was looking at something far away. Holly had one more question she wanted to ask and it was the one she was most afraid of hearing the answer for but if she didn’t get it out now, she knew she never would; “How, um…what’s Josh’s role in all this?”

Adelaide regarded Holly carefully, trying to keep her surprise to herself, “What tipped you off to his involvement at all?”

“When Duke and I got here and I…when I introduced them, Josh already knew about Duke—specifically he knew how I’d explained—okay, fine I _lied_ but anyway—my relationship with Duke to Jennifer last night and, liked, reinforced it or something—but the only way _I_ know Duke is because of Jen and I don’t remember—I mean, I’m not supposed to—I never—,”

Adelaide held her hand up to Holly to stop and filled in the rest of what she was trying to explain, “He knew something that he shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it so _creepily_ , but if that’s the way you want to phrase it…” Holly said, trying to be light as she shrugged and took a step away from the counter back towards the couch, but her stomach lurched. Holly had never considered herself to be a particularly _protective_ older sister, but she didn’t like the idea of her little brother being involved in whatever the hell was happening to Jennifer. Hell, she didn’t like the idea of _Jennifer_ being involved in whatever the hell was happening to Jennifer.

 _And yet here we are_ , Holly thought as she fell back onto the couch to sit, crossing her legs as she did.

Adelaide tried to give her a reassuring smile, “Creepy is just a state of being for me, apparently.”

Holly let out a huff of a laugh at that as Adelaide’s eyes softened on her again, “It’s _okay_ , Holly. Joshua is only as involved as he wants to be.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel _better_.” Holly said, glancing at the stairs as Joshua and Brielle came down them, and sat up straight. Brielle was on his back, laughing at something he’d said or done, and he had a big grin on his face. It’d been a long time since Holly had seen her brother so at ease. It almost broke her heart.

Adelaide crossed the room to stand in front of her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “He’s okay, Holly. He’s…he’s just returning a favor. We’re…we’re keeping him safe.”

“A favor? What does that—?” Holly started to ask, looking up at her in confusion.

“Momma, we’re ready!” Brielle interrupted, beaming at them from over Joshua’s shoulder as they approached the front of the shop. Her jacket was clenched in her hands as they rested under his chin as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“We’ll continue this later,” Adelaide said quietly to Holly. Before Holly could formulate a protest, Adelaide turned back to the duo at the end of the counter, “Brielle, that had to be the _longest_ Jacket Hunt you’ve ever been on!”

Joshua chuckled as Adelaide walked back to the counter and leaned against it to address Joshua more directly, “Well, we _started_ on a Jacket Hunt, but then as Brielle told me about the Drama in the Dollhouse—,”

Adelaide gasped and nodded knowingly, “Oh, Bob and Carol?”

Joshua shook his head, “Don’t get me _started_ on Bob and Carol.”

Adelaide nodded solemnly as Brielle giggled over his shoulder and Holly shook her head at them. Joshua continued, “I became a bit enraged and, well, to make a long story short—,”

“Too late,” Holly and Adelaide said together. They glanced at each other and grinned.

“—I became Godzilla and crushed Tokyo, Moscow, London, and part of San Francisco.” Joshua concluded.

Holly smirked, climbing to her feet, “What, all the other major cities in between London and San Francisco just not worth it?”

“Well I actually _started_ in London and went east.” Joshua contended.

Adelaide pulled Brielle off Joshua’s back and set her on the floor, taking her jacket from her and helping her into it, “Well, if you’re _quite_ done destroying major cities, I think there’s an aquarium for us to get to.”

“Right you are, Ms. Adelaide. My car’s around back,” Joshua led the way out of the store.

Adelaide held Brielle’s hand and followed, Holly following just behind them as she mumbled to herself, “We’ll finish this later.”

* * *

 Jennifer held Duke’s hand tightly as they walked to the park a couple of blocks away from the café and from Bouquin Bros. Duke wasn’t complaining, but he knew that she only held his hand this tightly when she was thinking intently about something and wasn’t really paying attention to the rest of the world. He looked around at the people around them, wondering if they were being watched by whomever it was that had taken Jennifer and if they were enjoying the mildly panicked state she was in or if they were planning on using her inhibited state to take her away again.

He didn’t know who they were, but he knew at least a part of what they were capable of, and he doubted that they’d let her out of their sight so easily.

Whatever else his paranoia told him, or had him believe about the situation, he _had_ to get her to calm down.

She was tapping her thumb against his and chewing on the inside of her lip. She was looking at her feet as they walked and was so removed from what was going on around her, Duke was afraid that if he wasn’t holding her hand, she’d walk off and keep going until he never saw her again.

And he could only handle that so many times in one life.

He spotted a bench and pulled her towards it, tugging on her hand gently to guide her—though she didn’t seem to notice. He sat on it and pulled her gently down to sit next to him. She kept fidgeting even as they sat; her leg was bouncing, her thumb was still tapping against his, and she was tapping the fingers of her free hand against her other leg.

“Hey,” he said gently, ducking a little to catch her eye.

“Hm?” She said, only tilting her head slightly towards him but still not looking at him yet.

He sighed before deciding to risk reaching out and touching her neck to get her to look at him, “Hey, Short Stack, slow down; you fidget anymore and I think you’re gonna atomize yourself.”

Her eyes cleared slightly and she focused on him as her hands and leg stilled. She tried to smile at him, “I didn’t think I was being _that_ bad.”

He smiled back, pulling his hand away from her neck before she could register it was there, “I’m pretty sure that if you weren’t holding my hand, you’d just keep walking until you couldn’t anymore.”

She shook her head, “Sorry. I, uh, I do that when I start really thinking about something; I just kind of… _go_. My mom used to call me the Energizer Bunny when I’d get like this—that. Whatever.”

Her smile turned sad as she looked back at him, “But, uh, I imagine you already knew that.”

He nodded as he leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees. He held their joined hands in front of his and ran his free hand over her knuckles. It wasn’t what he really wanted to do, it wasn’t a kiss, but it was as close as they were going to get for now. “I did know that. Which is why I’m going to ask what you’ve been thinking _about_ , and what happened in the café.”

She sighed as she stared absently at their hands, “When you, um…when you took my hand, it was…it was like everything just lined up and made the memory of the first time you held my hand in public clear.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, “You remember enough of the context to—?”

She shook her head, “No, I’m sorry I…I just remember what I’d thought at the time, and I was hyperaware of the fact that that was the first time we did that.”

She paused as she crossed her legs next to him as she furrowed her brow in thought, “The memory itself was…it was so _different_ than any of my other…I dunno _episodes_? It came so calmly, so easily; there wasn’t even a throb before it, it all just…it _flowed_. And I…I _felt_ it—all of it. And it just…it wasn’t the first time this happened; when…just before you told me I looked nice back at the shop, I…that was when I remembered that you were glad I was staying in…well I suppose you were glad I was staying in Haven.”

Duke squeezed her fingers and ran his free hand over his mouth nervously as she continued, “But that moment is…is strange because it’s like…I only remember up to you saying that you were glad that I was staying but it just…it stops there. You were looking at me after I asked if you were glad if I was earning rent money, and then I remember you saying ‘Staying in’ but that’s where it ends.”

“What do you—what does _that_ mean?” Duke asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

She sighed, “Hell, I dunno. It’s like someone went through and cut out certain things. The name of your town seems to be one of them.”

Jennifer saw his demeanor shift, and his eyes darken slightly so she tried to smile at him, “But the memory of you holding my hand, now, _that_ played out in its entirety and I _felt_ everything and I just…I _remembered_.”

He looked at her nervously, “Has it…has it happened again since we’ve been walking?”

She shook her head, her already weak smile faltering, “No. No, it hasn’t happened again. Not, um, not _yet_ , anyway.”

 _Not even when I touched your neck?_ He wanted to ask, but he refrained, pushing down the disappointment that the gesture hadn’t done anything. It had been so important before, and he had _hoped_ —he pushed the thought away and chose instead to ask, “What do you think caused it?”

Duke turned towards her slightly so that his knee lightly touched hers. Jennifer shook her head, “I have no idea. I mean, that wasn’t the…the first time you’d touched me—I mean hell, you _hugged_ me the second you saw me and this didn’t happen—but…oh hell, I just don’t _know_.”

She sighed and let her head fall back as she pressed the thumb and forefinger of her free hand against her eyelids. She left her hand there as she said, “Do you think if you touch me somewhere else I’ll remember something more?”

Duke laughed nervously, _Oh don’t tempt me_ , “I think that that isn’t exactly ‘first date talk’.”

She laughed, dropping her hand from her eyes and looking back at him as she sat back up, “I guess you’re right. What would you suggest to get this…this _date_ back on track?”

“Well, this hand holding?” He said, holding their conjoined hands up for her to see and smiling at her, “This? Right here? This is a _really_ good start.”

She giggled at him as he glanced briefly around the park and spotted a cotton candy vendor just across the way. He continued, turning his gaze back at Jennifer, “Now the next step— _if_ you promise not to get up and walk until you can’t anymore—is for me to be the gentleman and offer you some cotton candy for us to share while we talk.”

She smiled at him skeptically, “‘Talk’? That sounds a little _normal_ , don’t you think?”

He grinned at her, “Well, there’s a first time for everything,”

 _Or second in our case_ , it was unsaid between them but certainly not unfelt, even as she laughed at him.

Duke pointed at her with his free hand, “Promise you won’t wonder off while I grab the cotton candy?”

She grinned at him, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

He just chuckled at her before squeezing her fingers and standing, he held her hand for as long as he could as he stood and walked away. As he crossed the park, he’d look back at her, like he was trying to make sure that she was still there. Every time he looked back at her, she’d smile at him and wave slightly, trying to communicate, “I’m still here. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Once he reached the vendor and was distracted from checking on her every few seconds, she sighed and leaned back against the bench, letting herself try to figure out what else she could ask him about. Haven would probably be a good start, what her role there was, why she’d even go there to begin with, and maybe something about this relationship she was apparently starting to remember. From his actions and reactions to her, she could tell that he’d cared about her—deeply, in fact; and that he still did. But part of her wondered how much of his behavior towards her _now_ was just out of a continuation of those feelings for her, or if they were out of guilt. She hadn’t managed to glean much about the circumstances of her death from Duke—and even thinking about that made her head hurt a little bit and for once not in a “memory throb” kind of way—but there had been guilt in his eyes when he’d ask if she remembered what had happened, which only made her own developing feelings for him that much more complicated. But then again, what about this situation _wasn’t_ complicated?

She sighed to herself as she watched Duke talking to the vendor, smiling and making small talk, and she found that she couldn’t help but smile as she watched him. She liked him. Or, at least, she believed that she _could_ like him. He was funny, kind to her, and really listened to her when she talked. Maybe instead of rehashing things about her memories they could just have a normal first date talk, about childhoods, and embarrassing school stories, just _normal_ things. Strange as it was, it felt as if she hadn’t done anything “normal” in a very long time. And even though she was sure what she had to say he’d heard before from her, she still wanted to tell him; to do it all again.

 _Not everyone is lucky enough to get a second chance like this_ , the small voice in her mind from before, the one that always seemed to crop up wherever Duke was concerned, whispered in her mind.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A voice to her right said, pulling her back to reality.

She looked up at the man, a lanky individual, with blond hair and surprisingly bright blue eyes, though nothing else about him seemed overly remarkable—in fact she was certain that if she were asked to pick him out of a lineup, she wouldn’t be able to do it. He looked kind enough but there was the slightest feeling of unease that came over her as she looked at him. She could almost hear Adelaide calling him something like “Stretch,” but she smiled at him all the same to be polite, “Yes?”

He smiled back at her, looking nervous and relieved that she was willing to speak to him, “I’m so sorry, I’m not from around here and I’m just trying to get to, um,” He fumbled briefly with a map, “Old North Church?”

She smiled at him and held her hand out for the map, “Here, let me show you.”

He stood closer to bench, not enough to invade her space but enough to make her feel as if she needed to be on her alert, as she unfolded and refolded the map to show him where he was, “See, we’re here, and Old North Church is just down that way—,” she went from pointing on the map to pointing to her left towards the other side of the park, “—across Unity Street,”

The man laughed, “Oh! God, don’t I feel dumb?”

She just smiled at him as she refolded the map and handed it him back, “Don’t worry about it, sometimes even _I_ get lost around here.”

“Well, I’ve heard that it’s not so bad getting lost sometimes. Let’s you… _forget_ about all those _troubling_ things,” The man smiled back and looked at her for moment longer, making Jennifer shift slightly away from him this time, that uneasy feeling getting stronger.

“My mother used to tell me that the, uh, _trouble_ with running away was that you always met yourself once you got there.” Jennifer replied, using the same inflection as the man instinctively. She was sure her confusion was obvious on her face by now but she kept smiling at him, hoping that he wouldn’t suddenly turn angry and make this situation that much worse.

“Wise words,” The man contended, though there was a tension to his shoulders and in his voice now that only made Jennifer more uneasy and made her wonder what this man’s damage was as she crossed her legs trying to protect herself, “But who said anything about running away?”

Jennifer shrugged, beginning to steel herself to the man, “She seemed to think that you only got truly lost when you didn’t know where you were going, and that only happened when you ran away from something.”

The man returned the shrug, still trying to smile at her as the edges of it began to seem to fray with either agitation or outright anger and Jennifer wasn’t sure which she would’ve preferred, as he continued, “Maybe running away isn’t as bad as your mom made it out to be.”

Jennifer just tried to give him a placating smile, even as her agitation began to flare up. She looked toward where Duke was, and relaxed slightly when she saw that he was on his way back.

“Sorry, hate to ask for any more from you since you’ve been so _helpful_ but could I bother you to recommend a place for lunch?” The man asked, pulling her attention back to him as he moved the slightest bit closer.

“Um,” _Anywhere away from_ me, she thought as she glanced again towards where Duke was coming from. He met her gaze and smiled at her, she tried to smile back, but he could apparently already see that something was wrong. As he got closer, he seemed to notice the unwanted attention this man was giving her and his entire demeanor changed; he looked like a man who was holding on to the last strains of his reserve.

Jennifer continued to speak to the man, hoping that if she just played along, he’d go away though her agitation was only growing towards him, “Momma Caverna’s, on Charter Street; their food is exceptional.”

The man smiled and leaned down towards her, making her slide further away from him. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to really care, “Would you mind showing me?”

“I would, actually.” She said, finally tired of being nice and of this man not taking the hint, “And I mind that you keep trying to get in my space.”

The man looked at her, shocked, and that only pissed her off more.

“Listen here, _Stretch_ —,” The man seemed to tense at her slip, but Jennifer wasn’t sure what to do with that yet. She _was_ certain, however, that she didn’t care as she continued, “—I don’t know where you’re from, ‘cause you are _obviously_ a tourist, but I suggest you work on your manners and ability to read people, ‘cause I have been sending a pretty _clear_ message since you made that crack about running away.”

“And what would that message be?” The man asked, his smile turning venomous, as he stood tall next to her.

“Leave. Me. _Alone_.” Jennifer said through clenched teeth and meeting his gaze.

“Hey, Sweetheart, sorry about that,” Duke said, approaching the bench at an even gait and sounding incredibly calm. He kept his eyes on her, smiling and offering her his free hand, “The Cotton Candy Guy really liked to talk.”

Jennifer smiled back, and took his hand as she stood. She instinctively moved to Duke’s side so that he was in between her and the blond man. Even if she hadn’t done this as easily as if she’d done it a hundred times, however, Duke was already gently pulling her that direction. He smiled at her and offered her the blue cotton candy to take. Once she did, he turned back to the blond man. Jennifer could see the change in him as he addressed him, even without looking at his face. His entire back tensed, as if he was getting ready for a fight, but he was also incredibly still, like he was just waiting for the absolute last moment to say or do anything. He was using his full height and size to attempt to intimidate the man, and Jennifer was surprised to realize that he was actually _taller_ than she had initially thought. It was as if he was trying to turn himself into a solid wall between her and Stretch. Part of her expected his grip on her hand to be tight as he entwined their fingers, but it was as casual as ever, belying the agitation she could see in the rest of his body. Without thinking, she squeezed his hand gently, as if she was trying to communicate to him that she was all right. _I’m okay, you’re here, everything’s fine_ ; it was a habit that seemed natural to her. There wasn’t a real change in him, but some of the tension seemed to ease slightly in him. He gently squeezed her hand back, even as he kept his gaze trained on Stretch.

“I’m sorry, and you are?” Duke asked, a forced pleasantness to his voice as he absently put his free hand in his pants’ pocket—to belie the fact that his hand was probably clenched into a tight fist if Jennifer had to guess.

The blond man smiled coldly back at Duke and opened his mouth to answer, but Jennifer beat him to it as she took a bite from the cotton candy and dismissively shrugged, “Just a lost tourist, babe.”

Duke glanced at her. She didn’t know where the endearment came from as she met his gaze but whatever he saw there, he seemed to understand and find amusing in her eyes as he smirked at her, as the man explained, “She was just giving me directions.”

“Right.” Duke said, turning back to the man as he dragged the word out. He winked at him, “She’s a gem like that. Well, we should get going; places to be, tourists to avoid, you know how it is.”

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, his smile seeming to have become frozen to his face, as Jennifer snorted lightly next to Duke.

Duke clapped him on the shoulder, “Good luck finding your way, though, buddy. Maybe next time, don’t bother the pretty brunette sitting alone on the bench.”

“Because I don’t know who she’s waiting on?” the man asked condescendingly, shrugging off Duke’s hand from his shoulder.

“No.” Jennifer answered, stepping out from behind Duke. She doubted she looked very menacing with a stick of cotton candy in her hand, but she kept her voice stern and squared her shoulders as she continued, “Because you don’t know what kind of _mace_ that ‘pretty brunette’ has got in her purse.”

Duke grinned at her as Stretch stood there, opening and closing his mouth quickly and reminding Jennifer briefly of a gold fish. She tugged on Duke’s arm, “C’mon, babe, I suddenly don’t feel like walking in the park anymore.”

“Anything for you, Sweetheart.” Duke replied, giving the man a mock salute and following after Jennifer, eagerly letting himself be pulled by her.

She took another bite from the cotton candy, even as Duke continued to glance at her with pride in his features. She offered the cotton candy up to him so he could take his own bite, “You’re either looking at me like that because you _really_ want some cotton candy, or you’ve got something to say to me,”

He used his free hand to pull away some of the candy fluff and put it in his mouth, as it dissolved he said, “You were pretty _badass_ back there, Short Stack; you deal with weirdos hitting on you a lot?”

Jennifer smirked at him, “Oh yeah. Like just last night. This _weird_ guy came up and hugged me, claiming that he knew me, calling me by a nickname I’d never heard before—you know, _weird_ stuff. Guy was _clearly_ off his rocker.”

Duke scrunched his nose at her, “Sounds like you handled it well.”

She shrugged, still smiling at him, “Apparently not; I decided to go on a date with the guy.”

Duke rolled his eyes at her, “Right. So. Any _other_ problems with weirdos hitting on you?”

She smirked slightly; biting back on her next snarky remark about if he was jealous, and shrugged again at him, “Probably no more than the usual woman in a big city. I just doubt that anyone else had a cousin like Adelaide.”

Duke nodded, “Ah yes, she seems like a woman who can handle herself.”

Jennifer smiled, “ _Oh_ yeah. Right before I left for college she _insisted_ that I learn how to fight and defend myself; granted, she and some of the other kids in my neighborhood would often get into fights when she’d visit us when I was growing up anyway, and since I was her cousin I’d have to fight with her so—,”

“ _You_ used to get into fights with the neighbor kids?” Duke asked, looking at her skeptically.

She grinned at him and let go of his hand momentarily to mockingly flex at him, “You’re looking at the light weight champion of Camden Street, buddy.”

He laughed at her as he took her hand again, “I’ll try to remember that.”

She giggled at him and took another bite of cotton candy, “Damn _right_ you will.”

“So what was the deal with that guy? He kind of weirded me out even before I got back to you.” Duke commented, glancing around them briefly to take stock of the people around them. He doubted the guy would be so ridiculously brazen as to follow after them, but if his life made him anything, it made him paranoid. When he didn’t see anyone paying them any obvious unnecessary attention, he turned his gaze and attention back to her.

Jennifer shrugged, “To hell if I know. He started talking about getting lost and forgetting troubles and running away. He was kind of skeevy, right? Gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Had you ever seen him before?”

Jennifer gave him a confused look and wasn’t quite sure what to do with his tone, “Why do you ask?”

Duke shook his head, “I dunno, he just seemed really… _familiar_ with you, y’know?”

Jennifer shrugged dismissively, “Skeevy guys tend to do that. But no, I’ve never seen him before.”

She smirked at the cotton candy as she commented quietly, “That I remember, anyway.”

He squeezed her fingers absently as he nodded and chose not to say anything about her comment. God only knew how much truth there might be to her joke, and he’d rather not think about it or be the one who made her think about it. He chose, instead, to focus on the feeling of her hand in his. It’d been so long since he’d felt her hand in his, he’d forgotten how easily, how _nicely_ , her fingers fit between his. He had to fight the urge to swing their hands as they walked; he was not a schoolboy walking with his crush.

She offered him the cotton candy again, as she asked, “So tell me about yourself, Duke. I feel like we kind of missed that step in the whole ‘normal first date’ thing.”

Duke shrugged as he grabbed another chunk of cotton candy, sucking some of the excess sugar off his thumb and smirking at her comment, “Not much to tell really. Grew up in Haven, Maine, and barely scraped out with a high school diploma. I own a bar, as you know, and I…well I’m a transporter.”

Jennifer nodded, her eyebrow quirking up speculatively as she gave him a knowing look, “Ah, yes, that’s the term Holly used.”

“You sound dubious.” Duke chuckled.

She smiled, her lips a faint blue from the cotton candy, and looked at him innocently, “ _Dubious_? What’s there to be dubious _about_?”

Duke rolled his eyes, “Okay, so it’s a bit more—,”

“Illegal? Y’know,” she grinned at him, “Like a criminal?

Duke chuckled again, “I prefer the term ‘below board.’ And not _all_ of it is.”

“Right,” she nodded, dragging out the word, “And no comment about the criminal accusation?”

He shrugged, “I am what I am. And what I am is a criminal,” to her calculating and knowing glare, he quickly added, “but one with a heart of gold.”

Her eyes sparked with amusement at that, and pressed for more information about Duke’s business, “So how do you _do_ your transporting? You drive around? You run some sort of really complicated mail system?”

He laughed, “Well, technically speaking, the latter _is_ correct,”

She glared jokingly at him, making him laugh again before he answered, “I own a boat. Well, I live on it.”

“Yeah?” She smiled, eyes lighting up in amusement again, “Are you trying to tell me that I’m on a date with a real-life pirate?”

He let out a light laugh, thinking to himself, _Gone for over a year and still making pirate jokes._

“Yeah, Short Stack; got any reservations about being out with a Pirate?” He asked, grabbing another chunk of cotton candy.

She considered it, “Nah, besides, I doubt anyone would believe me. And how dangerous can he be with a heart of gold?”

He grinned at that as she asked, “What’s the name of your boat, anyway?”

Duke rolled his shoulders slightly, “It’s, um…are you sure it’ll be okay? To say it?”

She gave him a confused look before she caught his meaning and then shrugged, “Who knows? Nothing happened when you mentioned Haven. I have no idea what hearing the name of your boat will do, but I figure the best way to figure this thing out is to just…just _do_ it.”

Duke smiled at her, something sparking in his eyes that she wasn’t sure how to read yet, as he mumbled, “Absolutely fearless.”

She shrugged, “Not so much fear _less_ , I’m just…I’m so _tired_ of letting something other than _me_ make my choices for me, you know?”

He just grinned at her, as she waggled her fingers that she was holding the cotton candy with at him, to signal for him to tell her.

_“It only gets power if I give it.”_

Duke squared his shoulders slightly as he said, “My boat’s name is _The Cape Rouge_.”

Duke watched her carefully, conflicted about whether or not he should hope for a throb. He wanted to do something to bring her back to herself—to _him_ , but he didn’t want to do it if it would hurt her. She closed her eyes, hoping that something would come, but just like with Haven, nothing did.

Not yet, anyway.

But she was already getting tired of saying that.

She opened her eyes and shook her head at him sadly. Duke sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. She squeezed his fingers, “Hey.”

He looked at her, squeezing her fingers back, as she continued, “It’ll…it’ll come back. We just have to give it time.”

He nodded and sighed, “Right. Time.”

She studied him a moment, sensing his agitation and waning patience, but she wasn’t sure what she could say or do to make him feel better. Her first impulse was to reach up and touch his face, but she fought it. It felt…it felt like too much too soon. What was that called? When your body just wanted to do something that felt like instinct but it didn’t make sense for it to be that?

Muscle memory.

She sighed internally; well that’s just great. Her body remembered, but nothing _else_ did. She tried to look on the bright side; at least _some_ part of her was remembering.

She took a bite of the cotton candy as Duke shook his head and sighed again, knowing somehow, that she could feel his agitation. He rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. She _was_ right; they just had to give it time. He glanced at her again, and chose to enjoy the artificial coloring to her lips. He wondered, briefly, if he kissed her right then, if he’d still taste the cotton candy.

There was a pause as they both looked around the street before he reached for one of the last bits of cotton candy left on the paper cone and Jennifer asked, “Why do you call me ‘Short Stack’?”

Duke was surprised by the question but he just shrugged, “Just seemed to fit, you know? You, uh,” he laughed slightly, “You hated it at first, I think. You’d, uh, you’d get this—,” he gestured between his own for emphasis—“this little, agitated crease between your eyebrows. And then, one day, I dunno, you just stopped doing it.”

He smiled fondly at the memory, before glancing at her and running his free hand through his hair again, “Sorry.”

She shook her head at him as she tossed the paper cone of the cotton candy into a nearby trashcan, her lips now sufficiently and distractingly blue, “No, it’s okay. Besides, you answered what I asked.”

There was a pause as Duke fell into his own memories briefly. He’d first started calling her “Short Stack” on one of the first days they knew each other. It’d been an accident, not something he intended to keep calling her, but something about the way she’d get agitated and roll her eyes when he would…it wasn’t until after they were together that he realized that it was because he thought it was cute. And then she got him back by calling him “Sailor” and it became as comforting for him to hear as her saying his name.

An electronic _ding_ came from her purse and she let his hand go briefly to root through her purse until she pulled out her phone. As she looked at the screen, she absently reached for his hand again, entwining her fingers with his. It was such a simple, natural thing for her to do, it was so like before, that part of Duke felt like it would break in half. She smiled at the screen and held it up for him to see; it was a picture of Holly, Joshua, and Brielle in front of the seal tank. Holly was grinning knowingly at the camera, Joshua was grinning tiredly, and Brielle was looking with wonder up at the seals that were swimming behind them.

Duke smiled at the picture as Jennifer pulled it back, “It’s from Adelaide; the caption under it says, ‘Holly says to tell Duke we found his friends’.”

Duke rolled his eyes and, to Jennifer’s confused look, said, “It’s a long story.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him and made as if she were going to comment on his evasion but her phone dinged again, distracting her. It was a series of pictures of all four of them alternating at one of those face insertion caricature boards; one of Adelaide as a mermaid and Joshua as a sailor, followed by one of Brielle as an otter and Holly as a dolphin.

“What’s the caption on that one say?” Duke asked.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, “Adelaide wants a picture of us.”

Duke gave her a confused look, “What for?”

Jennifer shrugged, “To make sure I’m still alive? Who knows why Adelaide does _anything_ ; I just know that it’s usually easier to just roll with it than it is to try and argue with her.”

She pulled up the camera on her phone and smiled at it, she didn’t take a picture though; instead she seemed distracted by her image, “Aw, man! Why didn’t you _tell_ me my lips were blue? Stupid cotton candy.”

He grinned at her; “It’s a good color on you, Short Stack.”

She smirked at him, “Doesn’t look so bad on you either, _Sailor_.”

Duke froze for a second, staring at her. She gave him a confused look, “What?”

“You, um, you used to call me that. That was…”

“Oh.” She replied and then more quietly, as the gravity of the nickname became clearer to her, “ _Oh_.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer. That had been too easy; it had come too _naturally_ not to mean something, but what? It wasn’t a memory that had prompted Jennifer to say that, it had just been…it had been _them_ , together. Duke wasn’t sure how much to hope for, but he’d been hoping since he first saw her again; why stop now? He sighed at himself; he knew why—hope was a deadener, you don’t focus, you don’t stay _alive_ when you hope too much.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling them back out of their respective thoughts. Duke took it from her, careful not to brush her fingers with his as he did, “Think, uh, think we can give her a normal enough looking picture?”

Jennifer tried to smile at him, “I’m willing to try if you are.”

He held the phone out so that they were both in the frame, just before he clicked for the picture to be taken, she said, “Stick your tongue out.”

“What?”

“Stick your tongue out. Adelaide’ll get a kick out of seeing my tongue blue, but there’s no _way_ I’m gonna be the only one making a dumb face in this picture.” Jennifer smiled.

“Solidarity at it’s finest.”

“Only way to go.” She grinned at him.

Duke shook his head at her in response but stuck his tongue out with her as he took the picture. She took the phone back and sent the image, smiling at the phone. When she’d placed the phone back in her purse, she looked at him nervously. She didn’t know what to do or say, but she _did_ know the sun was setting and that they should get going back towards the shop.

She told him as much and he nodded.

She was nervous about reaching for his hand again, but he left it out for her, just swinging at his side. He seemed anxious and a little agitated; he kept glancing around the street and then down to her. He reminded her of kid who shoplifted a piece of candy from a drugstore; constantly checking for anyone who seemed to be looking at him too long and constantly checking his pocket where the candy was to make sure it was still there.

 _Does that make me the candy in this situation?_ She thought, smirking to herself.

She pulled herself back to the moment and glanced at him. She was suddenly very aware that she wanted to hold his hand again. She let the back of her hand brush his, to test the waters, and saw how he straightened slightly and let his fingers twitch towards her. That had to be a good sign, right? She smiled to herself before letting her fingers loosely twine with his. He tightened his grip on her fingers as they walked; he seemed relieved that she wanted to hold his hand again, and she was glad to see how he relaxed he got at her touch. He looked at her, a nervous glance that reminded her of a schoolboy looking at his crush, and she smiled at him and wrapped her other arm around his, pulling him the slightest bit closer to her. He smiled at her, happily letting himself be pulled towards her. She liked that he was so responsive to her touch; she’d never really been overly contact driven, but something about the way he looked at her, and the way he was so happy and reactive to her that made her _want_ to touch him. There was even…there was even a calming effect on _her_ when she did. She used to tell Holly that it was always like her mind was on overdrive, making her overthink things, always fidgeting; there was never any…any _quiet_ in her mind but when she held his hand, that was what she got: quiet.  

They walked that way for a while, not really saying anything, but Jennifer found that she didn’t really care. They hadn’t really done anything on this date, she realized, but this was the most fun she’d had in a long time.

He kept looking at her, and would smile at her with this sentimentality that made her wonder, once again, just what it was that he _saw_ when he looked at her. Here she was: liking this guy, enjoying being with him and learning about him, but for all she knew he wasn’t seeing _her_. Not who she was in this moment, walking with him, but who he _remembered_ her as. And that doubt made her disappointed and apprehensive about the direction the rest of the date—or even their relationship, _whatever_ it was or would be—would take.

The sun had already disappeared behind the buildings by the time they made it back to the bookstore. The lights were on in the shop, Little John was on the couch with his head towards the door, and there was light coming through the beaded curtain of the kitchenette, but the “closed” sign was hanging in the front window. If Jennifer had to guess, everyone was probably sitting in the kitchenette while Adelaide made them something to eat or drink. Duke let go of her hand as he moved to open the door for her but Jennifer tugged on his arm, stopping him.

He arched an eyebrow at her and she just smiled, her lips distinctly and disappointingly less blue than they had been earlier, “Trust me, you’re gonna want to wait awhile before going in there; the second we go through that door, we’ll likely be swarmed by an excited six year and two women who enjoy teasing me relentlessly.”

He smiled at her skeptically, and in response to his expression, Jennifer said, “No really, you’re gonna need a moment to brace yourself.”

Duke just laughed at her, “ _Well_. And here I thought I’d heard just about every excuse there was to not go into a girl’s house at the end of a date,”

She rolled her eyes at him but smiled apologetically up at him, “Speaking of, I’m sorry this date was kind of lame. I don’t feel like we did anything at all, all day.”

He waved her off, “Nah, it…it wasn’t lame. I actually…this was actually the most fun I think I’ve had in a long time.”

Her smile turned relieved, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Yeah. You know, uh,” he buried his hands in his pockets, “when we…when we were first together, we didn’t have to do anything special—we could have fun in a box.”

He smiled at her, but she shifted nervously in front of him, tugging at the sleeve of her jacket; she wanted to say something to him.

He bowed a little to catch her eye, “What’s on your mind, Short Stack?”

She closed her eyes before just asking, “Did…did you love me?”

Duke froze, feeling his stomach lurch and his heart thud in his chest. He should have known this question would come up eventually; Jennifer was too perceptive, too smart to not arrive at _some_ sort of conclusion about what he felt for her. But the worst part, the absolute _worst_ part; was that he only just _now_ truly and absolutely knew the answer to that question.

And here he thought he was being so subtle.

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out on his answer, “Yes.”

Jennifer tensed but nodded before asking, “Did…did you tell me?”

Duke sighed and rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He knew the answer but there was so much more that he wanted to say with it; that things always got in the way, that every time he wanted to it was when one of them was in danger and he didn’t want the first time he said it to be when he wasn’t sure he was going to see her again.

He regretted it now, though. Everyday that he spent without her, he regretted not telling her.

Instead, he went for a monosyllabic answer, just like his answers to her other questions, “No.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, “Okay. I’m, uh, I’m sorry I asked those questions—I know they probably weren’t easy to answer—but I just…”

She sighed again, nervously looking from him to up the street, to the shop and then back to him, “Look I had a lot of fun today—like a _lot_ of fun, easily the most fun I think I’ve had all year and—and I think I like you or that at the very least I _could_ like you and I want to spend enough time with you to figure that out—,”

“Really?” Duke asked, doing little to belie the hope in his voice or to conceal his smile.

“— _but_ ,” Jennifer continued, trying not to look directly at him, “I…I don’t know who I _was_ or who you _think_ I was, but I…”

She paused and let out a slow breath, before continuing, “Duke, I’m not a ghost. And I won’t compete with one, so…so if that’s what you’re expecting, or what you’re looking for then…then I don’t know where that’ll leave us.”

Duke studied her as Jennifer caught her breath and looked back at him. He wanted to choose his words carefully. It hadn’t occurred to him that Jennifer would think that he wasn’t interested in _this_ her; that he was only chasing a memory. It wasn’t an outlandish fear, honestly. And it was one, he realized, that he had already asked himself about.

Was he here for _her_ , or for who he _wanted_ her to be?

They stood there, quietly regarding each other for what felt like an eternity before Jennifer said, her voice breaking slightly, “God, could you, um, could you _say_ something, please? I feel like I’m gonna…I’m gonna burst.”

Duke ducked down slightly and placed his hands on either side of her neck so that his thumbs stroked her cheeks, disregarding his earlier apprehension about how she wouldn’t understand the gravity of the gesture, “Jennifer, from the moment I met you I…being with you had always been a _privilege_. One that I wasn’t sure I’d earned; nothing about what we were or are…I am not _entitled_ to you, okay? And I am not…you aren’t a ghost. You are…you have always been…” he sighed, trying desperately to get the words right so she’d understand as he shuffled his feet briefly. Finally he just sighed and said, “It’s you. It has _always_ been about you, whether you remember me or not.”

Jennifer shifted under his gaze and hands, but placed her hand on his forearm to keep him there, exactly as she’d done a hundred times before. She didn’t miss the way he half flinched as she moved her hand—probably thinking that she was going to push him away like she had when they first met—or the relief that made him relax again when he realized she wasn’t pushing him away. He kept his hands there as he moved his shoulders as he talked, “Now, I _want_ to help you remember, and I will be what _ever_ you want me to be to you as you do; friend, more than a friend, acquaintance, nothing, _whatever_ , okay? But I _want_ to be here.”

He stared at her for a moment before pulling his hands away and asking, “But, like I said, this is about _you_. So what do _you_ want, Jennifer?”

She let out a cough of a laugh and pressed her right hand to her forehead, “Right now? Maybe a shot of Honey Whiskey.”

Duke laughed, bowing his head, and looked back up at her, waiting for her to continue.

She let out a sigh before she carefully reached for his hand again, entwining their fingers, and squeezed it, “I want to _remember_. I want to know why someone would bring me back from the dead. I want to know who or even _what_ I am. But, if we’re talking just for this weekend?” She asked, her smile turning sly and a familiar glint appearing in her eyes, “I want to see you again.”

He beamed at her, “Yeah?”

She nervously grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged slightly, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “Yeah.”

Duke leaned down towards her, eyes trained on her still-slightly-blue lips when the door jingled open, “Auntie Jen! Momma wants to know if you want some hot chocolate?”

Duke sighed while Jennifer released his shirt and hand as she turned towards Brielle quickly, speaking in a rush, “We were just heading inside, okay?”

Brielle beamed at them before going back inside, blissfully unaware of what she’d interrupted. Duke rubbed the back of his neck, knowing there was no saving the moment now, as Jennifer turned to him and gestured towards the door behind her nervously, “We, uh, we should probably go inside.”

Duke nodded and held the door open for her.

“You know,” he said, trying to go back to casually flirting with her, “if we _are_ going to see each other again, I should _probably_ have your number.”

She just smirked at him as she walked in, Little John bounding off the couch and standing in front of Jennifer with his tail wagging a mile a minute, “You certainly didn’t need my number to set this up.”

He followed after her as she scratched Little John’s head, and spoke quietly to him. She was asking Little John if he’d been a good boy and if he’d calmed down since she left, only to receive excited tail wagging and licks from Little John. Duke commented, “Well, maybe I don’t want to have to keep having a go-between anymore.”

“That you, Jen?” Adelaide called from the kitchenette, “Get in here and tell Holly that the incident with the champagne at her wedding was _not_ my fault!”

“We’re coming!” She called back. Little John walked up to Duke and looked up at him expectantly, tail wagging gently at him. There was the smell of onions sautéing coming from the kitchenette, and Duke was suddenly made aware that even with everything else he had eaten that day, he could definitely eat whatever it was that was cooking.

“So what do you say?” Duke asked behind her, scratching behind Little John’s ears as a kind of peace offering after what had happened earlier that afternoon. Little John received the affection more than willingly, even going so far as to grunt with pleasure at the scratching.

From the kitchenette, Duke heard Adelaide saying, “It wasn’t my fault! I wasn’t even _there_! And if Desmond were alive, he’d vouch for me!”

“Oh? So _where_ were you?” Holly was saying indignantly.

“Conceiving Brielle!” Adelaide responded, laughing before she had even finished the thought and earning groans and various sounds of disgust from Holly and Joshua.

Jennifer let out a quiet laugh at the conversation happening just on the other side of the beaded curtain before she glanced over her shoulder at him and as she parted the bead curtain to the kitchenette, grinning, “Come have dinner with my family, and I’ll give you my number.”

Duke grinned back, “I’ll take that trade.”


	6. Chapter 6

Duke stood back against the wall opposite where the “kitchen” part of the kitchenette was, surveying the myriad of different ingredients that were spread out on the counter, running the gambit from various fresh vegetables, to canned broths, and thawing steaks. He was surprised that they’d had that much food stashed away in their rather diminutive kitchen space, but then again, Jennifer seemed to be no stranger to consolidation and knowing just how to arrange things so everything fit where it needed to. Her room on the Rouge had been shockingly well organized and she’d managed to keep a good portion of her possessions in that small space while still having more than enough room to make it livable.

Jennifer slipped out of her jacket and hung it on one of the coat hooks next to Duke. She glanced at him as she did, and reached for his hand. He took hers and she gave it a gentle squeeze. From her reassuring smile, he assumed she mistook his position against the wall as an expression of his anxiety at coming to dinner with her family. In actuality, it was to give him the best view of the room, to keep an eye on the two people in the room that he had no reason to trust yet—Joshua and Adelaide. He was pleased, though, by the contact and the fact that she _wanted_ to offer him comfort through touch.

 _It’s the little things_ , he thought as he smiled back at her and returned the gesture, squeezing her fingers back.

Little John trotted passed Duke, his nails _clacking_ on the tiled floor, and went to lie down under the small table just beyond the counter where Holly, Joshua, and Brielle were gathered. Duke studied Joshua briefly. He _wanted_ to trust Holly’s little brother, but after his comment earlier that day, he didn’t know _what_ to think of the kid. He was making faces at Brielle who was talking enthusiastically about something to him, while Holly gently bounced her on her knees.

Jennifer released his hand and went to kiss Adelaide’s cheek in greeting, “Hey Cos, what’cha workin’ on?”

Jennifer’s voice brought his attention back to the women in front of him. Adelaide had her back to Duke as she focused on the stove, bare toes absently curling against the tile as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. She’d shed her leather jacket since the last time he saw her and her bandana, showing off the shaved parts of her head and her dark brown hair that was tucked behind her left ear as she worked.

Without her jacket, her back and shoulders were bare, exposing the full extent of her tattoos from her back and out. He wasn’t too surprised to see that the main piece on her back that all the other pieces branched off from was a tree. The trunk of it was right along her spine and the branches only became more distinct along her shoulder blades before being lost in the intricacies of the other pieces. It was impressive, with hardly any “blank space” on, in between, or around the pieces, and looked like she’d been perfecting it for a very long time.

Longer than her apparent age would suggest.

She leaned slightly towards Jennifer to receive the kiss as she answered, “To hell if I know, I started with the onions and now I’m just kinda…y’know, _goin’_.”

Jennifer laughed at her as she turned towards the counter and slid a jar of pickles towards her. She opened it and fished a pickle out, crunching on it before commenting, “Oh, that’s _all_ we need; you experimenting in the kitchen.”

Adelaide glared mockingly at Jennifer over her glasses as she lightly hip-checked her, “Oh get outta here, you’re harshin’ my cooking vibe. Go see your niece; she’s been practicing her sea animal noises _all_ day to show you when you got back. Holly’s been losing her shit over the seal bark for some reason.”

Adelaide glanced over her shoulder at Duke, “She seemed pretty convinced that _you_ would understand why.”

Duke rolled his eyes at that, and risked a glance towards Holly, who was already looking at him. She grinned at him, which only made Duke make the face he’d learned from Jennifer at her. Holly snickered as she looked back towards Joshua, wrapping her arms around Brielle’s waist, pulling her closer to her, and kissing her cheek even as Brielle continued to talk excitedly to Joshua, unaffected by the contact.

Jennifer was giving him a confused but anticipatory look. He just shook his head at her, but when her expression held steady at him he just mouthed, “Later” to her. She arched an eyebrow at him, but seemed to accept it as she finished her pickle.

She turned back to Adelaide and leaned against the counter again, “I’ll go see my niece in a second, first I gotta ask—hot chocolate?”

Adelaide just smirked, “It seemed like a legitimate question before we finalized dinner plans. Why, did I—,” she purposefully glanced back at Duke, a knowing glint in her eyes, “— _interrupt_ something?”

Jennifer scrunched her nose at her, “Don’t you always?”

Adelaide made a similar face at her for a moment before lightly tapping Jennifer’s nose with her finger. Jennifer swiped at her hand to get it out of her face, causing both of them to giggle. She pushed herself from the counter and made her way around the counter to the small table where Joshua, Holly, and Brielle were.

She smiled at Duke, her skepticism and brief distrust set aside, as she walked passed him, licking the juice from her fingers, and brushing passed him. It was a small space to be sure, but not so small that she _needed_ to pass that closely to him, and the glint in her eyes told him that Jennifer knew it. Duke smiled back down at her, groaning internally at the gesture and at her proximity, and watched after her as she approached the table.

Jennifer made some sort of comment about the conversation being had at the table, but Duke could hardly hear her because of how intently he was watching her legs. Brielle turned from her spot on Holly’s lap at the sound of Jennifer’s voice and her whole face lit up when she saw Jennifer walking towards them, excitedly greeting her and talking rapidly about all the things she saw at the aquarium as she reached up for Jennifer to pick her up.

“I’m going to sound like more of a mother than I ever bargained for by asking this but: I take it you’re staying for dinner, Duke?” Adelaide asked over her shoulder to Duke as she moved the onions around briefly in their pan. Her voice cut through Duke’s distracted thoughts to at least assure that he was back to listening to her, even if he still wasn’t looking at her.

“And I’m going to sound more like a nervous teenager meeting the Mom of my date than _I_ bargained for by answering: If I can, Ma’am.” Duke answered, only glancing at her briefly before continuing to look at Jennifer as she picked Brielle up from Holly’s lap so that she could sit with her. Adelaide laughed, commenting that she was far too young for anyone to be calling her “Ma’am” and that doing so wasn’t going to earn him any sort of points with her.

Jennifer turned to pull out and take the seat next to Holly on the side of the table closest to the kitchenette, her skirt twirling gently against her legs with the movement. She turned the chair so that she faced towards Holly and could see into the kitchen area slightly as she sat. Little John briefly raised his head as Jennifer moved the chair, tail thudding against the floor as he watched Jennifer, before he let his head flop back down onto Joshua’s feet, sighing heavily as he did.

Once she and Brielle were situated, she glanced towards Duke, smiling when she saw that he was already looking at her. She looked back at Brielle before he could smile back, his eyes trailing up from her legs, a blush coloring her cheeks even as she exaggerated her awe at whatever fact or story it was that Brielle was telling her. He’d always enjoyed the discrepancy in the things she’d blush at: sucking her fingers at him did nothing, but catching him looking at her caused the most beautiful shade of pink to color her pale skin.

“Holly—well, I guess I really heard it from Jennifer first—but they tell me you own a bar, is that right? _The Gray Gull_?” Adelaide was saying to him now.

Duke nodded in response, pulling his focus back to Adelaide completely, “That’s, uh, that’s right, yeah.”

“As well as…oh, how did Holly put it?” She paused in her work, letting her head tilt back to look at the ceiling before rolling it on her shoulders to look at him, “‘Transporting certain items for a select clientele’?”

He regarded her briefly, crossing his arms, “Something like that.”

Adelaide smirked at him, wiping her hands off with the towel that had been draped over her shoulder as she turned to look at him, eyebrow quirking at his gesture but continuing, “Quite the businessman, then.”

Duke just nodded slightly towards her, offering her a small, tight-lipped smile.

She turned back to the stove, tossing the towel back over her shoulder, and spoke over the same shoulder to him, “But in regards to your bar; do you _actually_ know your way around a kitchen or is that for someone else to worry about?”

She turned the heat down on for the onions, turned the oven on, and started surveying the things she had on the counter, apparently formulating a plan about what to do next.

“I’ve been known to successfully cook on my own; without a fire extinguisher and _everything_ ,” Duke answered casually, uncrossing his arms and already moving to stand next to her. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to get ready to help however he could. He didn’t really know who (or _what_ , if he was being completely honest with himself) Adelaide was or what part she played in what had happened or was happening to Jennifer, but if her invitation to help her cook meant anything, it meant she wanted to talk. More importantly, she wanted to talk to _him_.

 _So let’s talk_ , he thought as Adelaide chuckled at his joke. She cleared a cutting board for him and handed him a knife and vegetable peeler.

“Why don’t you start in on cutting… _these_ ,” she grabbed the bag of carrots and celery and placed them in front of him, “They’ve already been washed, you just have to peel the carrots and then get started on cutting them—julienne, if you can—while I start figuring out what kind of spices I want to put on the steaks here.”

“How many do you want cut?” Duke asked, picking up the vegetable peeler and grabbing the bag of carrots.

Adelaide shrugged, “Uh…I dunno. Enough? I’m really just making this up as I go along. Does three sound like a good number?”

Duke shrugged, “It’s your kitchen, Chef. Just tell me what to do.”

She sighed and rubbed at her buzzed head. She regarded everything on the counter for a moment before saying, “Three or four should about do it. Joshua’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach so who _knows_ how much he’ll eat.”

“I can _hear_ you, y’know.” Joshua called from the table, earning a chuckle from Adelaide.  

Adelaide looked back at Duke, gesturing briefly to the counter, “We good?”

Duke nodded and set to work as Adelaide rummaged through the corner cabinet above the microwave and started pulling out various spice shakers. Once they were placed on the counter, she grabbed a flat metal pan from the drawer under the stove and some tinfoil to cook the steaks on in the oven, just as the stove beeped to say that it was heated up. Duke switched places with her briefly so that he stood in front of the sink and started peeling the carrots. Through the gap between the cabinets and the counter, Duke could only see the people at the table from about their shoulders down to their midsection. He saw Brielle’s torso positioned on Jennifer’s lap and he could hear her doing fairly accurate animal impressions. She was doing a rather impressive rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” as a seal to the amusement of Holly, who was laughing so hard she was actually slapping her knee.

“So. You’re Jennifer’s cousin?” Duke asked over his shoulder to Adelaide, focusing on the task in front of him. Adelaide nodded, humming a response in the affirmative for him, prompting Duke to continue, “It’s funny, but my memory’s a bit, uh,” he held the vegetable peeler close to his temple and moved it in a circular motion there, “ _fuzzy_ when it comes to what Jennifer told me about you.”

She smirked, “I could say the same about you.”

Duke’s jaw twitched in mild agitation but he kept a cap on it, choosing instead to peel the carrots with more gusto than was probably necessary, “Touché. That seems to be happening a lot around here lately, though.”

Adelaide chuckled, “Must be something in the water.”

Duke paused. That was the phrase Jennifer had used earlier, when she was talking about Little John. He tried to just chalk it up as a coincidence—after all, Adelaide and Jennifer were supposed to be cousins who’d been living together for over a year; they were bound to start using the same phrases and such—but his guard was slowly starting to come up. He looked over his shoulder at her expectantly, “You wanna give me a refresher course on what I seem to have missed on _The Life and Times of Jennifer and Adelaide_?”

Adelaide shrugged, chuckling lightly at him, as she started pouring the spices she selected into a small bowl to mix them together, “Well the Made-For-TV-Movie short version is that we’re cousins on our mothers’ sides and that we’re all that’s left of the Mason/Bouquin lines.”

Duke glanced at her, “And the Director’s Cut long version?”

Adelaide started to rub down the steaks on the flat metal pan with the spice mixture and gave him a sideways glance, smirking at his joke, “Just a _bit_ fuzzy, huh?”

Duke shrugged dismissively, “What can I say? A year’s a long time.”

“Depends on who you ask,” Adelaide said quietly enough that Duke almost missed it; the animated conversation the group at the table was having didn’t help either. Once again, his instincts told him something was off, and his guard rose just the slightest bit higher. He glanced back towards the table, trying to check on Jennifer, and while he couldn’t see her clearly, he could hear her.

Jennifer and Holly were now reminiscing about something from the trip to Europe that had introduced them, and laughing at shared jokes and stories from the trip, while Brielle seemed to have leaned back against Jennifer’s body, apparently struggling to keep her eyes open. She sounded fine—happy even, and relaxed. He tried to let her calm influence him, but if anything it made him more nervous; why didn’t Jennifer feel it? Jennifer, apparently noticing Brielle’s exhaustion and unaware of Duke’s defensiveness, asked Joshua to go find a hairbrush for her so that she could work on undoing the braids in Brielle’s hair.

Joshua made his way passed the kitchen and exchanged a look with Adelaide. There was a litany of micro-expressions that crossed over Joshua’s face, apparently in response to whatever he was seeing on Adelaide’s face. It appeared they were having an entire conversation without saying a single word before Joshua glanced at Duke, smiling nervously, and continued out of the kitchenette. Duke took note of the exchange, thinking there must be something _there_ between Adelaide and Joshua, something that had to be beyond a platonic relationship, but decided to wait before asking anything about that; right now Adelaide seemed willing to share with him what Jennifer’s life with her had been like, and that took precedent over everything else.

 _Know your enemy._ He thought, _But know for certain whether or not they actually_ are _your enemy first._

And so far, Adelaide kept acting like she had one foot on their side—on _Jennifer’s_ side—and another on the side of whoever it was that was working against them. It was a position Duke was familiar with, but he also knew that one way or another, those sides pull you towards them.

Or they pull you a part.

Adelaide rolled her shoulders, “Our mothers were sisters, and both of our fathers were only children so we’ve always been each other’s only family. Laetitia, the younger of the two, married Noël Bouquin and was my mother. Imogen, the oldest, married Arthur Mason and was Jennifer’s adoptive mom. Our grandparents died before either of us were born, so for a time our family gatherings were just our parents, then it was them and Jennifer, then me, and then finally, my little brother, Robbie completed our Christmas cards.”

As they switched places, Duke having peeled a satisfying number of carrots and Adelaide having placed enough steaks on the pan to feed everyone, Duke was struck with how seamlessly they seemed to be able to move around each other. There was a strange sense of familiarity from being around Adelaide, as if they had known each other for years rather than just a few hours. He wondered if it had something to do with whoever had given Jennifer to her—this ability of hers to seamlessly blend with other people’s habits and movements; into other people’s lives—if it was part of her ploy or her camouflage to get Jennifer and anyone else in her life to trust her; to do what she needed to do, whatever that was—was that why Jennifer didn’t seem to think anything was wrong?

Duke tried to push that thought to the side for now; he didn’t like the idea of Jennifer’s ease and trust being just another fabrication—He didn’t like the implications of how far or deep the people-who-took-her’s influence was over her or her situation. Duke looked back at Adelaide briefly, trying to glean some further insight into her. Regardless of anything else he suspected of the woman, Duke was positive about one thing: there was no way Adelaide was just a _normal_ human woman.

There was something unsettlingly _easy_ about being around her. He’d met other people who, like her, inspired a feeling of seamlessness in their interactions with other people, often to inspire trust in their marks. It didn’t help his suspicions that he’d only met the majority of those other people in some of his “below board” lines of work, and they were always better to have as friends than as enemies. What side Adelaide fell on remained to be seen.

As he reflected on some of the other people like Adelaide he’d met who’d been so easy to be around and adapt to, he realized that he’d experienced this same ease “above board;” with Jennifer. Something in that thought unsettled him the most; he didn’t like what that could imply about _what_ Jennifer was.

“Holly didn’t mention a brother.” Duke commented as he began to julienne the carrots and as Adelaide placed the pan into the oven, focusing back on the conversation at hand and forcing his suspicions and increasing desire to get Jennifer the hell _away_ from the shop into the backseat of his mind.

Sadness and regret flickered across Adelaide’s face, distracting her from the question about why he’d mention Holly over Jennifer talking about their family that Duke expected her to ask, before she steeled her features, unintentionally letting the oven door slam closed and stood up rather abruptly.

The noise caused the conversation at the table to stop suddenly, and Little John to sit up, _oofing_ and growling slightly at the noise. Duke’s grip on the knife tightened, preparing to use it for something other than chopping vegetables and he could see Jennifer and Holly jump and turn towards the kitchenette, trying to look towards them as Joshua walked back in.

Adelaide let out a slow breath, closing her eyes and trying to get her body to relax. Once she had reined in her emotions, she crouched and tried to smile back at Holly and Jennifer through the gap between the cabinets and the counter. He imagined Jennifer had offered her a nervous smile in return, which was enough to make Adelaide feel comfortable enough to stand straight again. She rolled her shoulders again to relax herself further as she said quietly to him, “You’re getting ahead of me.”

There was a pause as Joshua and Adelaide looked at each other again, having yet another conversation without saying a word to each other, before he moved to join Holly and Jennifer back at the table. He handed the brush to Jennifer who thanked him quietly as he took his seat opposite her and Holly. Holly cleared her throat as she turned back to the table and as Jennifer began to work the left braid out of Brielle’s hair. Holly tried to pick the conversation back up and, carefully, they started talking again.

Little John stayed at attention long enough for Jennifer to start talking with Holly again, before shifting so that he was closer to Jennifer and slowly lying back down. His head still turned towards the kitchen, ears still perked in the direction of the kitchen, and came to rest on Jennifer’s foot. She must’ve looked down towards him because Duke heard her coo quietly to him, trying to tell him it was all right. He only glanced at her, tail wagging slightly as she spoke, but he didn’t move or seem to really relax.

 _That’s a good dog_ , Duke thought briefly, impressed by how protective Little John was of Jennifer, before turning his attention back to Adelaide.

“I’m sorry.” Duke said quietly to Adelaide, his grip loosening on the knife. He knew that there were only a few reasons why someone would give the response that she had and he felt like a tool for bringing it up.

Adelaide shrugged, smirking sadly, “Now you’re getting a head of _your_ self.”

He studied her a moment, reading her body language to get a read on what she was thinking. Her body language was relaxed, lost in her memories of the family she’d lost, and while her features showed that she missed them, she looked like she was pleased to talk about them, his most recent mistake aside. Whatever else he managed to glean about Adelaide’s character as the night progressed, he wouldn’t be able to say that she hadn’t experienced great loss, or that she hadn’t loved those that she had lost.

Another silence fell between them as Duke finished the carrots and started on the celery. Adelaide washed her hands in the sink and ran the garbage disposal to get rid of the carrot peels from when Duke had been working there previously. It was loud and intrusive on their silence, and apparently gave Adelaide the opening she needed to speak.

“My mother died when I was ten,” Adelaide said as she dried her hands and went back to stirring the onions, “Robbie was about eight and Jennifer was twelve—Mom had always had a weak heart—they used to say it was a miracle that she was able to give birth twice and Mom would joke that she only needed one more to be considered a saint and then we’d be living the “good life”—I was never sure if that meant she wanted another child or if she was just waiting for some other “miracle” to happen in her life.”

She paused before shaking her head at whatever memory or thought that had come up and continued, “Dad would get on her _all_ the time about it though; she was always pushing herself too hard and too far—he used to try to throw some statistic about how women were supposed to live longer than men but at the rate she was going, she was going to put them both in an early grave. But she insisted on keeping up with Robbie and me—if there was something either of us were involved in, Mom was there, basically doing it with us. Dad was going gray by the time I was six; Mom stressed him out _that_ badly—I, uh, I don’t know if he ever really forgave himself for being right.”

Her way of speaking about personal things—loss in particular—was so similar to how Jennifer spoke about it, Duke could almost believe that they _were_ related.

Adelaide shifted in front of the stove from one leg to the other, “After Mom died, Robbie and I spent a lot of time out at Aunt Imogen and Uncle Artie’s, and, of course, with Jennifer. Jennifer kind of took on a ‘big sister’ role for us; making sure we were keeping up in school, getting enough sleep, eating right, somehow just knowing when we’d had a nightmare, staying up with us if we couldn’t sleep—y’know, shit like that. She…you know, her parents could handle what they saw of Robbie’s and my mourning, but they…they understood Dad’s _better_ somehow—they tried to be careful with us, since they knew that we were impressionable or whatever and I’ll always be appreciative of them for that—but a kid can only be treated like she’s made of glass for so long before it stops being helpful. Jennifer took the brunt of what was actually happening—she didn’t sugar coat things for me or Robbie, or if she did, she made sure it was for our benefit and not just because she felt sorry for us, God love her.”

“Sounds like her,” Duke said quietly behind her, “Always offering help beyond herself.”

She let out half a laugh as she nodded and paused briefly, collecting her thoughts. She continued, “Dad…Dad got really _lost_ without Mom. He threw himself into what work he could here at the shop—it was actually during that time that he built a lot of the domestic elements here; the kitchenette, the loft upstairs, the plumbing, all of it.”

“I’ve never heard of a bookstore owner who sided in construction,” Duke commented, sliding the cutting board over to her.

She picked up the cutting board and began to scrape the carrots and celery into the pan with the onions, which certainly wouldn’t have been Duke’s first thought to do with them, but then again, it wasn’t his kitchen.

She smirked, “No, and he certainly wasn’t either. A contractor, that is. Thankfully, he was clear headed enough to hire a company to help him with the major stuff. Working with the contractors and getting this place to be more profitable, it…it helped to _focus_ him, y’know? Kept him from fixating on the past and his loss.”

“Just his?” Duke asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

She turned and pointed the wooden spatula she’d been using to stir the vegetables with the onions around at him menacingly, “Don’t you try to psychoanalyze _me_ , buddy. I’m not even done with your ‘refresher course’ yet.”

Duke held his hands up in mock surrender as he propped his hip against the counter. As Adelaide turned back to her cooking, he ducked down to look at the group at the table, leaning across the counter. They’d been rather quiet since the oven door slammed closed. Duke’s guard had yet to go back down and the group’s continued silence wasn’t helping. Holly and Joshua seemed to be playing a card game and if the collection of loose change and small bills around her was any indication, Holly was cleaning house. Duke made a mental note to _never_ play against Holly—at least not for money.

Jennifer had only managed to really brush out the left side of Brielle’s hair. It fell all the way down her back in black waves and it was taking Jennifer some time to brush it all out. He could only see the side of Brielle’s face, so he couldn’t be sure the complete extent of her exhaustion, but her shoulders were sagging and her whole body swayed back and forth gently when Jennifer ran the brush through her hair. Duke could tell she was struggling to stay awake. Jennifer stayed focused on brushing her hair, and even though he couldn’t hear it, he was almost certain she was humming something. Little John still had his head on her feet, but his eyes had closed at some point, and he was sleeping peacefully next to his mistress, gently snoring. Jennifer finished brushing out the left side of Brielle’s head and moved to work out the right braid. As she gently worked her fingers through the braid there, she glanced up at Duke, apparently feeling his eyes on her, and smiled sheepishly at him.

He smiled back at her as Adelaide continued, crouching in front of the oven with a pair of tongs and opening the door, “We all had our ways of coping, Duke; Dad with his construction, Robbie…basically shut down to everyone—whether it was Dad, Aunt Imogen, Jennifer, _me_ —he and Mom were _very_ close and he just got… _despondent_ without her and never really shook it—and I…I had my anger. It didn’t matter what, who, or even _why_ , I was _pissed_ and _everyone_ was going to know it.”

Adelaide flipped the steaks over in their pan, glancing briefly over her shoulder at him, “I imagine Jennifer mentioned that I was kind of a scrapper when we were little?”

Duke stood from the counter and looked back at Adelaide, “She mentioned that you’d get into fights with the neighbor kids when you’d visit her and that she would fight with you when you would. She claimed to be the, uh,” he held his hands up to mime quotation marks at her, “‘Lightweight Champion of Camden Street’.”

“ _Reigning_ Lightweight Champion of Camden Street.” Came the indignant correction from the table.

Adelaide chuckled as she closed the oven, careful not to let it slam this time, “Jen, you’re an _adult_ ; I think it’s time to forfeit the title—you certainly can’t go back there and _defend_ it.”

“Uh-uh,” he heard Jennifer negate, sounding like a child, “Once a champ, _always_ a champ. And who says I couldn’t teach those little twerps a thing or two?”

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve actually heard anyone use the word ‘twerp’ in years,” Duke commented, chuckling at her. Jennifer crouched slightly in her seat to look at him and made a face, only earning another chuckle from him.

Adelaide shook her head as she stirred the vegetables again, over her shoulder she asked Duke to hand her the bag of rice on the counter. He did and when he was close enough that she was sure only he would hear her, she mumbled to him, “Don’t tell her—‘cause she’ll never forgive me—but the fight that gave her that title was against _me_ and I threw it because I knew how important it was to her.”

Duke mimed zipping his lips closed to her and she smiled appreciatively at him as she continued, “Anyway. Yes. I was angry as a child after we lost Mom. And before the peanut gallery at the table can comment _again_ , I will admit that I was angry into puberty as well.”

There were muted snickers from the table, which only seemed to prove Adelaide’s point, making her roll her eyes as she continued, “And I was even _angrier_ when Jennifer went on her trip to Europe, where she was having fun and was seeing the world and was making friends and changing _more_ after so many _other_ changes had happened, and left me alone—without the system of support that I guess I’d become dependent on—for a month. So when she got back I was extra frosty towards her—to the point that I think I actually refused to see her a couple of times. _But_ when Uncle Artie died…” she sighed, “it’s cruel and unfair, but that was my wake up call. I realized that my anger was selfish and that I was hurting the people around me because of it when we were _all_ hurting enough already. My anger kept me from seeing that Robbie needed help—Jennifer saw it, of course; she always seemed to be able to see what everyone else was missing—but, then again, we were all so blinded we just…”

She trailed off as she shook her head, letting the thought go, “My anger kept me from getting to really know my father, and it created more unnecessary tension in my family—it very nearly destroyed my relationship with Jennifer.”

“I never blamed you for anything from that time, Adelaide.” Jennifer commented from the table, “We were all pretty off-kilter when Aunt Laetitia died. Even more so after Mom and I lost Dad.”

Adelaide measured out a couple of cups of rice into a medium-sized pot and measured out water for it as well, eyeballing it as she placed the pot under the running faucet, and sighed, “That’s no excuse, Jen. You were only trying to help—like you always, _always_ do—and trying to move forward with your life after being held down by me and _my_ damage and I was being a petulant, shithead fourteen year old and—,”

“Adelaide.” Jennifer sighed, a tired finalization in her tone. Duke got the feeling that this was a conversation they’d had many times and that the end result never changed.

“That’s quite a mature wake up call for a fourteen year old,” Duke pointed out, hoping to stop the argument before it began.

Adelaide shrugged, “I grew up a lot for a fourteen year old. I had to. We all did.”

She paused again, lost in her thoughts. Duke heard Jennifer singing softly to Brielle in the kitchen but he still couldn’t determine the song, as Adelaide sighed, “Anyway. Robbie and I stayed at the house with Jennifer and Aunt Imogen for awhile after that—Dad couldn’t be too far away from the shop with all the construction, and even though we couldn’t do much, we wanted to be there for Jennifer—Well, _I_ did, and I’m sure in his own way Robbie did too, he just wasn’t as, uh, _determined_ about it as I was. Holly was there for a while too—dear heart in there,” she nodded towards the table and to Holly, “drove two _hours_ to Jennifer’s house after she heard about it—she and Jennifer had hardly been friends for six months by then but the _second_ she heard about it she dropped everything and was just… _there_ —once she got there, she helped do whatever she could to keep the house moving and Jennifer balanced.”

Her tone softened as she added, “When people would ask who Holly was, Aunt Imogen would just answer, ‘She’s family’; that was how I knew how important Holly was to them. To _us_.”

She raised her voice slightly to make sure the “peanut gallery” could hear her as she set the pot on the stove to get the water boiling, “I think that was when Holly and I first officially met and bonded—though I’m sure in one of those times I refused to see Jennifer, if I hadn’t been such an aforementioned petulant shithead teenager, I would’ve met her sooner. But I’m glad we did—I don’t know if I would’ve been able to keep Jennifer’s _and_ Aunt Imogen’s heads above water on my own—hell I was barely keeping _my own_ head above water at the time.”

“You would’ve been fine, Lady, and you know it.” Holly called back.

“Not how I was, Hol,” Adelaide sighed to herself as she rubbed the buzzed part of her head again and leaned back against the counter. She grabbed the tongs again and crouched in front of the stove to flip the steaks again.

“Time passed, as it often and cruelly does.” Adelaide sighed as she flipped the steaks, “I met Desmond Rousseau, Brielle’s father, when I was sixteen; total high school sweethearts, sappy love story—,”

“Oh, they were _gross_!” Jennifer laughed.

“Absolute puppy love that _never_ faltered.” Holly conceded.

Duke faintly heard Brielle giggle, and mumble something. He heard Jennifer whisper something back to her. He imagined it was a question or a comment about her father that Jennifer answered or agreed to. Duke imagined that, if she’d been given the chance, Brielle would’ve been quite the “Daddy’s Little Princess” type. She was quite clearly a Momma’s Girl, and he could only imagine that that’d be twice the case with her father.

Adelaide stood back up, closing the oven door again, and stirred the vegetables. She turned to her left and, grabbing the soy sauce on the counter, poured some into the pan, keeping the heat low and calling to Jennifer and Holly, “If you’re _quite_ finished?”

They only snickered back, letting her continue, “Yes. So. Sixteen, basically met the love of my life—as you can tell from the _tattoos_ —things were looking up: I’d finally convinced Dad to let Robbie go to counseling, Robbie got put on anti-depressants, Jennifer was going off to her dream college to get a degree in her dream field, Desmond and I were apparently being “gross”—For two years, we were all living our dreams and moving forward with our lives.” She paused, smiling as she let herself remember. She sighed, her features darkening, and continued, “And then when I was eighteen, my dad died.”

“Jesus,” Duke mumbled. No wonder Holly had said she’d seen enough mourning to know what it looked like; it didn’t seem like there had been a year in their lives that wasn’t marred by death.

What the hell were the people who took Jennifer trying to _do_ by putting her here? By giving her _these_ memories? He sighed at himself. But then again, was being alone and thinking she was crazy any better?

Adelaide nodded as she checked the rice, letting out a bitter chuckle, “Yeah, fuckin’ tell me about it. It was an accident too, if you can believe that; he tripped and fell and hit the back of his head on the corner of the coffee table. He’d been reading and walking—a habit of his that had usually been fine but not this time, apparently. I’d been out with Desmond—we’d been doing that a lot at the time; he was going away to college, we wanted to spend more time together, yada yada yada—but, uh, but _Robbie_ was home. He…he was asleep—before they got his dosage really figured out for his anti-depressants, the pills would do that to him just—,” she snapped her fingers for effect as her voice got a little panicked and she start speaking rapidly; something that reminded Duke of Jennifer, “—knocked him right out. He…Robbie was the one who found him, he—he got up because he was hungry and then he saw Dad there and he called me in a panic and I didn’t know what to tell him besides calling nine-one-one but it was too late and he had to wait there all by himself until the paramedics got there and _God_ I couldn’t—,”

She let out a slow breath, pulling herself back together. Duke noted that this was easily the third time she’d allowed herself to be seen by him as vulnerable and that it was also the third time she’d taken the time to rebuild herself in front of him. If he were in Adelaide’s position, he definitely wouldn’t have let that happen to begin with, let alone multiple times. Yet from the moment he stepped into her kitchen, she was willing to show her hand to him, to let him know what Jennifer’s new reality looked like and consisted of. She either truly _was_ on his and Jennifer’s side, she was manipulating them, or she was just quite possibly the dumbest opponent he’d ever encountered. And in all honestly, he wasn’t sure which option he preferred.

She clicked off the burners on the stove, moving the pot and pan to the back set of burners to free up the front, and crouched to check the steaks again as she continued, trying to keep her voice steady, “God I make our lives sound like they were just one funeral after the next. That’s not true, of course; there were plenty of bright moments, _good_ moments among all that death, sadness, and just general negativity, I promise. Would you believe that we’d go whole years without a _single_ devastating thing happening to us?”

“Not at the rate you’ve been going,” Duke commented.

She chuckled slightly, still crouched in front of the stove, “I know. But the good points are more fun to bring up in the moment, y’know? Happiness strengthening happiness. Besides, you _did_ ask for the Emotional Baggage Highlight Reel; and this is only the stuff I feel like is even my place to share.”

“I don’t think ‘Emotional Baggage Highlight Reel’ was exactly how I phrased it.” Duke retorted.

She turned towards him enough to jokingly make a face at him, “So sue me for slander, Businessman.”

Duke’s jaw twitched at the nickname but he tried not to make it obvious as Adelaide stood. If she noticed the twitch, she didn’t make it obvious as she picked up where she’d left off, “So there I was, technically an adult and beneficiary to my dad’s will—he had been paranoid enough after Mom’s death to have one, which was probably for the best, all things considered—and a choice: I could either sell the shop and use the money to help Robbie _and_ me through college with a potentially cushy nest egg for the both of us. _Or_ I could keep alive the one thing both of my parents struggled for and loved just as much as they loved us, only send Robbie to college, and put whatever I managed to keep making from the shop into a trust fund for a _very_ rainy day for us.”

“And when you put it like _that_ …” Duke commented, already knowing what her decision had been; he was standing in it.

She grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the pan from the oven, turning it off as she went. As she placed it on the stove, she chuckled lightly, “Basically. So I canceled the lease we had on the apartment we’d been living in, moved Robbie and me into the loft upstairs—though part of it was really to just get Robbie out of that place; he couldn’t walk passed the living room without basically having a panic attack—and I did my best to keep the store running and Robbie in school until he went off to college—he got accepted to University of Massachusetts and, you know, I thought he’d want to go to the campus that was close to the store but he wanted _Amherst_ —claimed he needed a change of scenery and his therapist agreed so, you know, what the hell do _I_ know. Anyway. Time continued to pass. Jennifer finished her undergrad, and started work on her Masters—like the _overachiever_ she is,”

He heard Jennifer chuckle from the table.

Adelaide heard it too and smiled as she continued, “Desmond went to college and when he graduated, we got married.”

She turned to grab plates from a cabinet and smirked at Duke’s surprised expression, “Oh, don’t give me that look; I had enough of it from Desmond’s parents—who never approved of me to begin with.”

Duke gave her a confused look, “Why didn’t they?”

Adelaide sighed, “Oh Jesus, fucking _pick_ a reason: my highest education was a G.E.D., both my parents were dead, I basically worked full time, I was a—,” she raised hands and mimed quotation marks at him, “—‘bad influence’ on their son, I offered Desmond a life different from what they wanted for him—just a lot of bullshit reasons that made me have to fight to keep Brielle from them after Desmond died—which they only did to hurt me and literally _everyone_ knew it—but now that I’ve won, of course, they won’t even fucking _acknowledge_ her.”

She let out a slow breath to try to get her anger that had started to bubble up as she spoke back under control, “But I don’t regret it; our marriage, Brielle, any of it—Hell, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

She opened a drawer and started rummaging for silverware. There was a slight smirk on her face, as some sort of private joke occurred to her, but she didn’t voice it, whatever it was. Duke hadn’t said anything in a long enough time that Adelaide glanced at him. She smiled at something she saw in Duke’s expression, “Duke, I’d known death most of my life; Desmond made me feel like—like there was more to life than just watching who you care about suffer. And that I _deserved_ that “more to life.” I wasn’t going to—and I still will _not_ —let the one thing that made me feel alive go,”

She gave Duke a meaningful look, “I’m sure you can understand that.”

Duke returned her look with confusion. Something in how she’d looked at him made his guard and agitation rise back up towards her further, but before he could ask what she meant by that, she pushed on, “We were married for five years before Desmond died of a brain tumor—maybe one day I’ll tell you about how his family tried to blame _that_ on me too.”

To that, there were barely muted disbelieving and disgusted noises from the table. Apparently the treatment of Adelaide by her in-laws was still a raw nerve with the group at the table.

Adelaide smirked but continued, “But his death was about three years ago—Brielle was only three at the time. _Five_ years ago we lost Aunt Imogen to breast cancer. And then two years before _that_ , Robbie went off of his meds and…and, he, uh,”

Her voice broke as she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to calm herself down, but she couldn’t finish the thought. The whole room got tense at the mention of Robbie. Even Little John, who had woken up at the sound of silverware hitting the plates, was back at the same level of attention he’d been at the oven door slamming.

She sighed, her voice breaking, “You know, he _really_ loved college? He was _almost_ done with his undergrad and he wanted to be a psychologist. He was thinking about looking into art therapy and counseling—he was looking into _graduate_ programs, for fuck’s…And he kept telling me that he was so _happy_ and I should’ve seen what was happening, I should’ve _gone_ to see him more often, I should’ve _done_ something and he…”

“Lady, there wasn’t…” came a quiet voice from the table.

Another, gentler voice saying, “Della, it wasn’t…”  

Adelaide cleared her throat, quieting the voices at the table. She looked at Duke and tried to smirk at him, even as her voice broke slightly again and her eyes glistened with the beginning of tears, “And that’s what you missed on _Glee_ , the Director’s Cut.”

Duke nodded, smirking at her joke, before carefully commenting, “That’s a hell of a lot of death for one lifetime.”

Adelaide nodded, smirking slightly as if she’d found something about what he said funny—it was the same look she’d had when she’d grabbed the silverware—and started building a plate for the group in the dining area, “Yes. Yes it is. _Which_ is why I cling to and protect whatever light my life lets me have.”

She gave Duke yet another meaningful look, “I imagine you can understand that as well.”

Duke furrowed his brow at her, not liking her tone. Twice she’d made that comment, and twice his agitation had flared at her about it. He’d figured that he should assume that she knew more than enough about him to be dangerous if she so chose, but that didn’t mean she had to lord it over him like she was.

He caught himself before he did or said something he’d regret and instead just sighed back, “Yeah. Probably more than most people.”

They regarded each other momentarily. Duke tried to keep his own body language neutral as he regarded her. He kept trying to get a read on her, on what she was thinking or planning, only to keep coming back to the same conclusion he had when he’d first walked into the shop: he didn’t know.

And he didn’t like not knowing.

Adelaide was giving him a small, pleased smile that reminded him of Jennifer’s. Whatever it was that she was seeing in him, that she _kept_ seeing in him, she was _very_ pleased by it. But what the hell did that _mean_? And why was she dropping these hints that she knew Duke better than she was letting on? And why be willing to tell him all this? With an audience consisting of the concerned party within earshot, no less? What was she _doing_?

Jennifer’s comment from earlier rang in his head, “Who knows why Adelaide does _anything_.”  

“So. Any particular reason why it’s only Desmond’s name in all your tattoos? Or is it just to piss off your in-laws that much more?” Duke asked, gesturing vaguely towards her torso and the tattoos there, trying to change the subject and to hopefully glean some more information about _her_ based on her answers.

She laughed at that, “That’s certainly always been a bonus.”

He managed a smirk at her, “I’ll bet. It’s just that usually when people lose that many people, especially in a family as close as yours apparently was— _is_ —they have more tribute pieces for them; it looks like you only have Desmond.”

Amusement lit up Adelaide’s green eyes as she placed the full plate on the far end of the counter to be taken to the table. She turned her left wrist over to show the scripted name, “Desmond,” written there. She pulled off her wedding ring to reveal a tattoo of two black bands entwined around her finger, “Desmond…Desmond was my…he was my _heart_ , y’know? Like…I didn’t know anything about my life or my future when I met him or when we first started dating, but I _knew_ he was going to be there no matter what I did. I guess I…When we first got married, instead of a honeymoon we got our tattoos and we, heh, we made it our thing that in all our pieces, the other’s name would be in it. He used to say that we needed _some_ way of making sure that the world knew we were…each other’s.”

“Sounds like quite a guy.” Duke commented, smiling at her.

She let out a small laugh, “You don’t know the half of it.”

She ran the thumb of her right hand over the tattoo on her wrist, “It’s been a long time since I’ve…when I lost Desmond I just kept getting tattoos—on his birthday, on mine, on Brielle’s—and I just hadn’t—I just _haven’t_ —,”

She let out another slow breath, something she was getting very familiar with as their conversation progressed, “He…he always made me feel _strong_ , y’know? Safe. And I just…I see his name and I feel that again. Like an armor I never take off.”

She paused, sliding her ring back on to her finger, “But I _do_ have something for my family. I just chose to keep the rest of them closer; they are _my_ family, after all. No one else’s. Besides, most people don’t know what to do with a woman who wears her wounds so blatantly.”

Duke’s eyebrow twitched upward at her phrasing. Three times now she’d done that. More than enough times to throw out the hopeful possibility of coincidence, he knew. And he hadn’t even actually _verbalized_ that last thought.

 _Well_ , Duke thought, _that just_ complicates _things._

She turned to him and carefully pulled down part of her romper to show off a large tattoo of an anatomically correct, gray scale heart over the place on her chest where her heart would lie under her ribs. The heart had names written on it in typewriter font, similar to the business card that had led Duke here the night before.

“Imogen,” “Laetitia,” “Artie,” “Noël,” “Robbie,” “Jennifer,” “Holly,” “Joshua,” “Desmond,” and “Brielle”—they were all there. He noticed, though, that the names didn’t take up all the space of the heart, and asked her about it.

Her smile turned fond as she readjusted the upper part of her romper, “That’s the point; there’s always room for more people in our hearts, Duke, even if— _especially_ if we’ve been hurt.”

Jennifer walked passed them with Brielle asleep against her shoulder as she rubbed her back, and with Little John still staying close to her and trailing behind her.

“Speaking of our hearts,” Adelaide commented quietly, her features softening further, cutting off whatever comment Duke could’ve made to that.

Duke turned to Jennifer and he went to touch her elbow in an effort to make sure she was all right, to reassure himself that she was real and there, but caught himself as Adelaide walked passed him. He tried to play it off as another motion, in case she noticed, but he was unsure what to do to cover it and she didn’t seem to really be looking at him anyway.

“ _There’s_ my baby girl—I knew she wasn’t gonna make it to dinner,” Adelaide said quietly to Jennifer as she ran her fingers through Brielle’s brushed out hair, her other hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. Little John looked between them with his tail wagging slightly as he did. Adelaide moved to take Brielle from Jennifer, “I can take her up, Jen,”

Jennifer shook her head, “Oh, don’t worry about it, Della; you worked so hard on—,” “All this talk about the past…” Adelaide interrupted, running her fingers through Brielle’s hair again, “I just…I _need_ some time with my baby.”

Jennifer studied her for a moment before she nodded, passing Brielle off to her. Once she was in her mother’s arms, she nuzzled her face in the crook of Adelaide’s neck as she sighed in her sleep and Adelaide placed a kiss on top of Brielle’s head. Adelaide whispered something to Brielle who whimpered quietly against her mom’s neck in response.

Jennifer rubbed Adelaide’s arm, asking quietly, “You okay, Cos?”

Adelaide’s features softened further as she looked at Jennifer for a moment. She shifted Brielle to her hip as she reached out and ran her fingers through Jennifer’s hair. She pressed her hand against the back of her head, causing her to tilt it forward, and pressed her forehead to Jennifer’s, “I’m good, Cos. I’m good.”

Adelaide kissed her forehead before pulling back and looking Jennifer in the eye again. Jennifer studied her for a moment more before nodding and kissing Brielle’s head.

Adelaide shifted her again and tilted her head back towards the kitchenette, “Go. Eat. Duke and I didn’t _slave_ over a hot stove to let that meal go to waste.”

Jennifer just grinned back at her, straightening, “Oh yeah, you were _really_ putting Duke through his paces in there—I mean, _julienning_ the vegetables? I’m surprised he didn’t _sprain_ something.”

“Oh, I’m _exhausted_ , she’s _easily_ the most difficult boss I’ve had to work with,” Duke commented, grinning at Jennifer over Adelaide’s shoulder.

“Don’t—She doesn’t need _help_ ,” Adelaide glared at him over her shoulder.

“Of course she doesn’t,” Duke agreed, “That was more for me.”

“Ah yes,” Jennifer grinned, her eyes sparkling in amusement up at him, “The true test of a date: Does he tease my cousin with me?”

Adelaide rolled her eyes at Jennifer, walking passed her and smacking Jennifer on her ass as she went, “Yeah, whatever smart ass.”

Jennifer swatted at her hand, laughing at her and taking a step closer to Duke, as Adelaide called over her shoulder, “There’s some red wine and beer in the fridge if anyone wants some.”

Duke just barely caught her singing the first few words of a song before she was too far away to hear clearly, “ _There’s a handwritten note…_ ”

Little John, apparently figuring out that there was no food to be had immediately from anyone in the kitchen, turned back towards the table and laid back down under it, keeping his body turned toward the kitchen and his eyes on Jennifer as best he could.

Jennifer smiled up at Duke as she took a couple of steps towards him, “Hi.”

He grinned back down at her, deciding to risk reaching out and rubbing her upper arm lightly with his knuckles, “Hey.”

She kept smiling back up at him, her eyes sliding half closed, as if she wanted to savor his touch, and moved closer to him. He didn’t think he could handle feeling anymore of her skin than what his knuckles were brushing just yet; but even what he _could_ feel was more than enough for him right now. Still soft, still smooth, still…perfect. He let his hand trail down her arm until he was holding her hand in his again. She took another step closer to him, getting dangerously close to being flush against him, still smiling up at him.

He brought his free hand to touch her neck, and when his fingers brushed her jaw she molded into him, bringing her body against his and wrapping her free arm around his waist. Duke was spellbound; it’d been so long since he’d seen or had someone respond to him the way Jennifer had—the way Jennifer _continued_ to. He wanted to tell her, right then, how much he missed her, how she was always in the back of his mind throughout everything that happened to him the past year, how she was in everything he did.

It was always her. Her smile, her laugh, her voice, her kindness, her courage—everything that made her… _her_.

“No one has to tell me twice,” Holly said in response to Adelaide’s offering of wine and pulling Jennifer out of the moment. Her eyes seemed to suddenly become clearer and she looked from him to their hands and seemed to become instantly aware of just how close they had gotten. She blushed up at him and moved away from him, surprised and confused by her actions as she looked over to Holly, and he let her go even though every part of him wanted to pull her back to him and finish what they’d started. He straightened and sighed internally; at least Holly had missed the quiet exchange between Duke and Jennifer. He was glad; any private moment he was able to get with Jennifer, stolen or otherwise was more than he had come to hope for and more than he thought he deserved.

But, damn it, that was _twice_ now that they’d been interrupted; this was starting to feel like someone was toying with them. Either that, or they really were just that unlucky. And history seemed to be indicating the latter.

At the table, Holly laid what was apparently another winning hand down in front of Joshua. Jennifer walked passed Duke, now suddenly hyper-aware of their proximity and apparently feeling self-conscious about it, and moved towards the fridge. She swung a wide path around him, as Joshua groaned and threw down his cards in defeat. Holly leaned across the table and collected her winnings, chastising him about knowing better than to play cards with his “older and wiser” sister and all but cackling at him, as Jennifer pulled a wine bottle out of the fridge and handed it to Duke. She was still being careful not to let herself touch him. He tried to smile at her as he took the bottle, to be reassuring, but she only blushed harder and turned from him as she opened a drawer. She pulled out a corkscrew held it out to him as well, struggling to look him in the eye, “Would you, um, would you mind pouring the wine? The glasses are just in that cabinet there—top shelf—and I’ll start making plates for everyone.”

Duke smirked at her as he set the wine bottle on the counter, still trying to put her at ease, “Can’t reach that high, Short Stack?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and shoved at him lightly, her earlier embarrassment apparently forgotten for the moment, “Oh shut _up_ , I’m not _that_ short.”

“Jennifer, when we went to Cedar Pointe after my wedding, you couldn’t go on _half_ the rides,” Holly commented from the table, counting her money. Duke half expected her to have a cigar in her mouth as she did; she looked so smug with her small winnings. He was _definitely_ never playing a card game against Holly—he wasn’t sure his ego could take it.

Duke laughed as Jennifer crouched and glared at her, “ _That_ is an exaggeration and you know it. Also: No one _asked_ you, Holly.”

Holly just chuckled as Jennifer turned back to him, giving him a slightly self-deprecating smile and gesturing emphatically, “ _But_ I will admit that the shelf is _slightly_ out of my reach. So if you wouldn’t _mind_ …”

Duke smirked as he nodded and took the corkscrew from her. They worked briefly in silence, Jennifer staying very focused on the plates in front of her, like she did when she was trying to gather her words or figure out what she wanted to say or do next. Duke waited patiently, knowing that when she was ready, she’d say something. Finally, Jennifer spoke.

“Quite a rundown of my family history you had there; where does _that_ fit on your ‘normal first date talk’ list?” Jennifer asked, still focusing on her task a little too intently.

Duke uncorked the bottle with an audible _pop_ , and set it on the counter as he reached for the glasses. He smirked at her, “Well, you said it yourself; this isn’t exactly a _normal_ first date. Usually we save the ‘meet the family’ part until further down the line.”

“Ah, well, I imagine we also save the ‘I know you better than you know yourself’-shtick until around then as well,” She replied, a little more drily than he would’ve completely preferred.

He chuckled, trying to get her to relax, “No time like the present.”

He reached for the top shelf, not missing the evaluative and slightly appreciative glance Jennifer gave him as he did so before turning her gaze quickly back to her work, pulled out four glasses, and started pouring as Jennifer commented, glancing at him much more obviously this time and smirking, “Ah-ha, so when do we do _your_ family history rundown?”

Duke shook his head, it was his turn to focus a bit too intently on his task, “If I have any say in the matter: Not until _much_ later and not until I am _very_ drunk.”

She chuckled briefly, before sensing something in his tone that told her that, while joking, he was serious. And there was something in his body language. There had been the slightest shift at the mention of his family; it still seemed casual and relaxed but there was something… _tense_ in him. It reminded her of how he had interacted with the man in the park. She glanced at him briefly, unsure of how to read him, but chose to stand the slightest bit closer to him all the same, and began creating a line of plates on the side of the counter closest to the table. She changed the subject, “Well, I’d just figured you’d already know all about mine. I thought _I_ was the one with memory lapse.”

Duke smirked at her but at her anticipatory glance, he sighed and said quietly so only Jennifer could hear him, “This is one of those times where it would be really easy to lie to you.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, prompting him to quickly add, “I won’t, though.”

She tilted her head back in half a nod, smirking at him, but waiting for him to continue without saying anything. He just sighed, “I’m not sure _what_ to say just yet, and I can’t—I don’t _deserve_ to ask you to _trust_ me but—,”

“Duke, my first encounter with you would’ve sent a more _rational_ thinking woman to the police.” He smirked at her. She returned the smile and continued, “And _yet_ , here I am, in my cousin’s kitchen, with _you_ , after a _date_ , about to have _dinner_ with you with my _family_. I think the fact that I trust you in some regard is a _completely_ reasonable assumption.”

He turned to her, his surprise clear on his face but he was smiling. She grinned back and reached for his hand, giving it a careful squeeze at his side, and saying quietly, “Tell me what you can for now, and we’ll talk about the rest later, yeah?”

He squeezed her fingers and nodded, “Yeah. Okay. For now, let’s just say that I…I feel like I need to talk to Adelaide a bit more.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, her suspicion clear in her features, but she nodded, “Alright. And at some point you’ll tell me what all this is about?”  
He nodded back, “As soon as I have more things figured out, I _will_ tell you.”

Holly approached the counter and grabbed a plate and a glass from the counter, smirking as Jennifer pulled her hand away from Duke’s. Jennifer scrunched her nose at the look Holly was giving her, prompting Holly to laugh at her. Jennifer snuck a peek at Duke, like a child looking at her accomplice in a crime, and he gave her an indulgent smile; Holly could smirk all she wanted at catching them holding hands, she’d missed the moment that mattered.

Holly glanced at the counter briefly, once again missing the exchange between Duke and Jennifer, and, apparently noting the missing fifth glass, asked, “No wine for you, Duke?”

“Not if I’m driving you back to your hotel tonight.” Duke answered as she turned and placed the plate and glass in front of Joshua.

Holly turned back and grabbed another plate, “Well, I was actually thinking of staying the night at Josh’s.”

“Oh, what, so you can get sloppy drunk and rub your winnings in my face some more?” Josh commented from the table, indignantly cutting into his steak, making him look more like a little brother than he had since Duke had first met him.

Holly rolled her eyes as she sat next to him at the table with her own meal, “I do _not_ get sloppy.”

Joshua just snickered at her as Jennifer interjected, “And most of those winnings are borrowed money from _me_ , I’ll remind you,”

Joshua grumbled something under his breath as Holly continued, “And that’s right; you’ve caught me. You’ve seen _right_ through my ruse of spending some _quality_ time with my little brother. It’s all an elaborate ploy to mock you further over a _card game_. Well done, Sherlock. We’re all _very_ impressed.”

Joshua turned and made a face at her as she jokingly pushed his face away, making them both chuckle at each other. Jennifer grabbed a plate and glass to set at the seat to Joshua’s right for Adelaide. She turned and grabbed another plate and glass as Duke came around the counter, carrying his own plate and silverware. Jennifer sat opposite Joshua, and Duke sat to her right, leaving the chair at the head of the table open for Adelaide, as Holly addressed Duke, pointing at him with her fork, “My _point_ being: don’t go holding back on _my_ account.”

“Oh, I’m not; I’m holding back because even _without_ you, _I_ still have to drive home.” Duke answered, cutting into his steak.

There was a rustling as the beaded curtain parted and Adelaide came back in, “I was actually thinking about that,”

“Adelaide, your super hearing is _astounding_ ,” Holly said in disbelief.

Adelaide shrugged, smirking at her, as she took her seat at the head of the table and sipped at her wine, “It’s a mother thing; came with the ability to know the _exact_ moment my daughter’s done something wrong.”

Holly raised her eyebrows as she half nodded, tilting her head back and smiling back at her in response, mouthing an “Ah” at her, before adding, “Well then it’s a good thing your daughter’s literally an angel. Though I sincerely look forward to _that_ teenage rebellion phase.”

Adelaide chuckled at her before she continued, looking back at Duke, an unsettling and mischievous glint in her eyes that seemed to immediately set Jennifer on edge, “You know, Duke, it _is_ getting late, and the couch on the main floor isn’t _much_ but it’s _plenty_ comfortable—,”

“Adelaide.” Jennifer mumbled, a warning in her tone and a blush already in her cheeks.

“—and if you _want_ ,” Adelaide continued, apparently choosing to ignore Jennifer but the telltale glint in her eyes only got brighter, “you’re more than welcome to stay the night. And we could always use the help tomorrow; there won’t be much of a crowd since it’s Sunday, we usually do more organization work for the shop, and I know _Jennifer_ would really appreciate the help,”

Jennifer covered her eyes with her left hand, her face now bright red, and mumbled to herself, “God, you are the _worst_ wingman.”

Duke quirked an eyebrow at Jennifer as she sheepishly peeked at him between her fingers and mouthed to her, “Wingman?”

Her blush deepened and she hid her eyes again, prompting Duke to chuckle at her.

Adelaide leaned on the table towards him, holding her glass out to him and smiling, “So? What do you say?”

Duke glanced at Jennifer again. Of _course_ he wanted to stay. More than anything, so long as it meant that he was close to her, but not if she didn’t want him to. This was about her, like it had always been, and if she wanted him to leave, he would. She just had to say the word. He just really, _really_ wanted that word to be “stay.”

She finally managed to quell her embarrassment and annoyance at her cousin enough to look at him and seemed to be able to know what he was asking in his gaze. She pulled her lips into her mouth nervously as she tried to smile at him and reached for his hand under the table. His hand met hers before his made it to her knee and she squeezed his fingers. They looked at each other for a moment before she whispered to him, suddenly very conscious of the eyes and ears that were tuned in on them and hoping for at least a modicum of privacy, if not the illusion of it, “I’d—I mean, I’d hate to make you feel like you _have_ to do something—or anything really—but, um, I’d, uh, I’d _like_ for…for you to stay.”

As the word left her mouth, she felt as if there was a great deal of _importance_ in it to Duke—to _them_ —and she felt as if she didn’t have the right to ask him or to use that word yet.

Duke grinned at her, quelling part of her concerns, and happily reached for Adelaide’s offered glass with his free hand, “I say: That couch better be more than just ‘plenty’ comfortable.”

Adelaide grinned at him, “I guess we’ll find out.”

Jennifer, without thinking, reached out and intercepted the glass from Duke’s hand, “Ho-oh no, you don’t. Not red wine.”

At his confused look, she continued, “We’ve got a very small, _very_ easily made cranky six year old sleeping upstairs and _you_ snore—very loudly—when you drink red wine,”

She had handed the glass back to Adelaide, who was looking at her in amused confusion, and had walked to get a beer from the fridge for Duke. She was walking back to the table, opening the bottle as she went, when she realized how quiet it’d gotten. Duke was giving her the same look he’d given her in the café after she’d remembered holding his hand, which only furthered her confusion. She turned her gaze to Little John as an indicator for the mood of the room. Little John seemed remarkably unmoved by the events around him, however, as he looked at Jennifer with his head on his paws, his tail thumping gently on the floor. Whatever it was that had captured the tongues of her family, Little John seemed as unaffected by it as she was.

She looked at the surprised faces of the people around the table, not understanding why they were looking at her like that, when she realized what she’d said; more importantly, she realized what she’d _remembered._

She’d been sitting in the opened trunk of her car, when he came and sat with her, placing his hand on her legs. She’d covered his hand with hers and he’d asked her something about “this” being her first time fighting a monster with a magical book.

_“How do you feel about dating Hermione?”_

_“Well we all have our stuff.”_

He’d looked at her gravely then and said, _“I snore. When I drink red wine.”_

And she’d laughed at him, however slightly; she’d still been too afraid, too shaken up by what had happened that day—but _what_ had happened that day?—and agreed, adding that he also snored very _loudly_ when he did. He’d kissed her forehead, and she felt some of her uncertainly and fear ebb, even if it was only slightly.

She sat back down in her seat again next to Duke, letting out an “Oh” as she did.

Duke reached out and took the beer from her so that he could hold her hand in his as Adelaide said carefully, “Jen? You okay?”

She heard Little John shift closer towards her under the table, and felt the gentle weight of his head on her feet. It was different from how he’d done it earlier, after the stove door slammed closed; it was less protective, more comforting. She was confused and a little scared, and he was responding to that. He was a good dog.

She tried to pull more from her most recent memory flash. A magical book? What the hell did that even _mean_? And fighting a _monster_ with that magical book? It sounded… _fictitious_ ; like something out of one of the millions books in the shop just on the other side of the beaded curtain. That couldn’t possibly be right.

She tried to get more context for what had happened that day that led to them sitting in the trunk of her car like that, but she was just met with another throb; one of the most painful she’d had since yesterday. She realized that she’d started to take her throb-less memories, that had been coming up more since she’d finally spoken to Duke, for granted. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, not trying to push on it, but just trying to clear her mind enough so that the pain would stop.

Adelaide, apparently sensing the throb or misinterpreting Jennifer’s expression, said again, “Jennifer? _Talk_ to us, Cos; what’s going on?”

Jennifer came back to herself, to the moment, and gave Duke’s hand, who’s own grip had started to become a bit desperate, a squeeze as she smiled at Adelaide, “Just, uh, just another memory flash. But, uh, it’s gone now.”

Adelaide quirked an eyebrow at her, “A memory flash? _Without_ pushing?”

Jennifer just nodded as she took a drink from her wine. She hadn’t had a chance yet to tell Adelaide about the ease with which some of her memories had been coming, specifically her memories about Duke, but she didn’t really want to get into that in front of everyone. She didn’t want to really get into _anything_ involving her memories right now; she just wanted some normalcy, even if it was just for another hour or so.

She turned to Duke, “Is that kind of beer alright? It’s been some time since I last raided Adelaide’s liquor cabinet but if you want something stronger or—,”

“What? No, just—forget the beer!” Duke interrupted, gesturing emphatically as he spoke before focusing intently on her again, “Jennifer, are—are you _okay_?”

She smiled at him, trying to be reassuring, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Like I said, I was just, uh, _remembering_ …something. But it’s, um, it’s not important right now.”

He kept studying her and her gaze turned the slightest bit desperate as she tried to communicate to him: _Later. Please. Not now. I_ will _tell you. Later._

He studied her for another moment, understanding what she wanted, but also suddenly fighting every impulse he had to either tell the others to go away so they could be alone, or to just grab Jennifer and take her back to the Rouge to do that anyway.

Though, in all honesty, the latter had been the case since he found her again.

He finally just sighed and picked up the beer bottle she’d brought him to look at the brand, “Yeah. This kind’s fine.”

She smiled her thanks to him, squeezing his fingers again, and looked at Holly as she asked a question about her most recent artistic endeavor. Holly gave her a speculative look before allowing the subject to be changed, giving some details about the recent series of paintings that she was working on. Joshua, for his part, seemed unfazed by Jennifer’s flash—concerned, perhaps, but primarily unfazed—as he continued to eat his dinner. He did, however, glance at Adelaide who only smirked at him when their eyes met, earning a responding smirk from Joshua. Duke took note of the exchange but continued to be unsure of how to interpret it. Adelaide turned her gaze back to Duke and Jennifer and kept glancing between them, a calculating look in her eyes, even as a small, knowing smile lightened her features; an expression that seemed to be her default.

Duke was getting really annoyed with that look.

* * *

For it’s rough start, dinner went surprisingly well. The women spoke with the fluidity of old friends long parted and reunited—all old jokes, shared memories, conversations exchanged with a glance, wits so sharp Duke was certain someone had to be bleeding at times, and rapid fire exchanges. Jennifer laughed so hard at one point she almost snorted her red wine out of her nose, which only sent the rest of the table further into hysterics.

He learned about how Joshua had taken to running the art gallery next door to not only encourage local artists, but to showcase many of Holly’s new pieces before they were available elsewhere—there had been a shift between Holly and Joshua when the subject came to him and his acquiescence of the gallery that Duke immediately picked up on, though Jennifer hadn’t seemed to notice and that only made his suspicion of Joshua grow. He learned about the three years Jennifer had spent living with Holly, Andre, and a couple of his friends during their undergraduate years, he even learned about the first time Jennifer tried pot under the guidance of one of those friends. He wondered if part of the reason they were all so willing to share had anything to do with the not one, but _three_ bottles of wine and three cases of beer that were opened over the course of the meal.

For all her jokes and assumptions about what Duke probably already knew about her, though, he actually learned a great deal more about her over the course of the meal than he had in all their time together. Then again, what time they _had_ had together had been cut unfairly short, so who knows when he would’ve actually learned these things if things had gone differently.

Regardless, Jennifer had been downright _giddy_ throughout the whole meal, laughing loudly and easily, even bouncing in her seat a few times as she’d spoken; in Haven, he’d seen her adapt to situations and into his life seamlessly and thrive, but _here_ , here she was in her element and he was struggling to keep up with her to return the favor. She had confidence, she spoke plainly and abruptly, and she was _happy_.

For all their laughter, though, none of them could do anything about how some inconsistencies in Jennifer’s memories would show up in some of the stories about Adelaide and Jennifer’s shared childhood. Specifically, when Jennifer had been sharing a story from their childhood and had turned to Adelaide to verify a fact about the event only to not only second guess herself and her certainty that Adelaide had even been there, but to also be met with some confusion and negation from Adelaide.

“But I was sure…” Jennifer had started to say, her brow furrowed in confusion as she looked at Adelaide.

Adelaide had shaken her head at her cousin, her features etched with sadness, as she said, “Sorry, Jen, I, uh, I don’t remember being there for that.”

Thankfully, that had only brought the room down briefly, as immediately after that Holly shared some extravagant story about a trip she and her husband had gone on, distracting them. Though Jennifer still seemed slightly distracted throughout the rest of the meal after that.

Duke shifted on the couch on the main floor of the shop, turning his face towards the back of the couch. Dinner had ended a few hours ago, Holly and Joshua walking (well, _stumbling_ in Holly’s case) back to his place next door, and Adelaide and Jennifer both leaving Duke shortly after. As Jennifer and Adelaide said their goodbyes to Joshua and Holly, Duke had hazarded a text to Dwight with Adelaide’s name in it, asking him to pull up what he could about the bookstore owner. Her actions and what they’d talked about as they’d worked on dinner solidified more suspicion of her in Duke and he was hoping Dwight would be able to give him something to work with. Dwight had replied with a simple “I’ll look into it,” earning a quiet vote of thanks from Duke to the Universe for Dwight’s inherent understanding of when to ask questions and when to not, when Jennifer had rejoined him in the kitchen.

They had sat around and talked just the three of them, Duke sharing a few, carefully selected, stories about his travels and his life in Haven. Jennifer had watched him with wonder as he described some of the sights he’d seen, and Adelaide…well, in all honesty Duke hadn’t been paying her any attention—not with Jennifer looking at him the way she was. It only lasted for another hour or two, before they had decided to call it a night.

After Adelaide had headed up to the loft, Jennifer had brought him an extra pillow and blanket before telling him about the bathroom that was in the back far right corner of the store. They had looked at each other for a long moment after she’d finished talking about some of the basic things Duke could need in the night, and he’d thought, or more accurately hoped, that they’d be able to pick up where they’d left off in the kitchen or even outside of the shop—he’d even entertained the idea of telling her that he was certain they would be perfectly capable of continuing their conversation just the two of them. She’d seemed to consider those possibilities as well before blushing at him and mumbling a quick “Good night” to him, leaving him to fall back onto the couch in exasperation. He’d placed his boots on the floor by the end of the couch that was closest to the store entrance, and he’d thrown his over shirt over the arm of the same end of the couch.

The couch was, in fact, rather comfortable, even for how old it looked to be, but Duke knew from the start that he wasn’t going to really be sleeping; he hadn’t actually been able to sleep for a year, and when he _had_ been able to sleep, it was only with the assistance of a lot more alcohol than what he’d had tonight. He’d hoped that maybe since he was at least in the vicinity of Jennifer, he’d feel at ease enough to finally sleep. So far, however, that was proving to be a fool’s hope.

He stood from the couch, giving up on sleep for now, and started browsing the shelves of the store, using the light from the streetlight pouring in through the front windows to read the titles; not really looking for anything specific, but he figured, hey, he was in a bookstore, just as well read if he couldn’t sleep.

As he browsed, he let his mind wonder back over the events of the dinner. Duke hadn’t been to _many_ family dinners in his life; the ones he _had_ been to certainly hadn’t been so involved, nor had they been so warm and welcoming. Holly, Adelaide, and Joshua didn’t press Duke for his own stories about his past or travels, but when he _did_ share, they welcomed him. They didn’t know him, hardly had any reason to trust him, and yet they had welcomed him into their home, to their table, into their _lives_ ; just like Jennifer had from the moment she met him.

He wondered, again, if part of whatever it was that Adelaide was made her so similar in manner and habit to Jennifer was the reason for why she seemed so willing to let him into her home and near her daughter. Holly he could excuse, even understand; while he hadn’t actually met the woman until all of this had happened, he at least _knew_ Holly and knew how she was with Jennifer enough to see them interact and mirror each other in interesting ways. Adelaide, however, was still an enigma. An enigma who continued to try to convince him, in part, that she was on his side or at least willing to be, to be sure, but an enigma nonetheless. If Duke were in Adelaide’s position, he’d keep Jennifer as far away from him as possible.

Duke sighed to himself; but then again, if he’d had Jennifer at _all_ , this wouldn’t be an issue to begin with.

He pulled a book from a shelf to flip through. As he did, another book fell off the shelf and onto the floor, hitting him squarely on the foot. He flinched at the sound it made as it landed, and at the slight pang of pain that ran through him from where the book landed, and looked towards the back of the store where Jennifer had gone at the end of the night. While he wouldn’t mind a late night chat, he didn’t want the circumstances of it to be because he was out on the main floor of her “cousin’s” shop making noise, potentially snooping.

Something about it reminded Duke of one of the first late night chats he and Jennifer had had when she’d first moved onto the Rouge. She’d been rummaging through his cabinets to find a saucepan, and had been mumbling something about how he was going to think she snooping around.

_“Oh, you know, just pulling out every single piece of cookware you happen to own at two in the morning just to strike up a conversation. Have you heard about Pluto? That’s messed up, right?”_

But that had been then, and this was now.

And right now, his foot hurt like a motherfucker.

When nothing happened, Duke let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and leaned down to pick up the runaway book, only to freeze halfway to it as the title became clearer.

“Oh, what the _fuck_ ,” Duke whispered, grabbing it from the floor, the pain in his foot forgotten.

 _The Child of Ruin_ was written in red, scrawling script across the top of the battered paperback. It was a primarily black cover except for the image of a door that’d been cracked open, letting a bright, white light through but the light wasn’t strong enough to illuminate anything more than part of the door. Under the image, where one would expect to find the author’s name, there was only _Anonymous_ in the same script as the title. The design reminded him of that damn _Unstake My Heart_ book that had led them to the lighthouse and ultimately to the situation he found himself in now, and he debated just tossing the book out into the street or, hell, maybe into an open fire.

Instead, Duke put the other book back on the shelf that he’d originally pulled it from, and took _The Child of Ruin_ with him back to the couch. He climbed back onto the couch over the back of it and fell heavily onto the cushions, still studying the cover. He turned it over, hoping to see a synopsis or _something_ that would give some insight into the contents of the book, but something told him he already knew what the book was about.

There wasn’t much of anything on the back for him to review anyway, which for another, more _normal_ book, would be suspect enough, but for this book and for the circumstances that he found it in, he imagined that he should just be grateful he got a title and an author name, even if it was one _hell_ of a cop-out author name. He stretched back out on the couch, holding the book in his hand and studying it. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, having a staring contest with the cover of the book, before he finally just sighed at it, “Fucking _fine_. You win.”

He opened the front cover of the book and immediately fought the urge to throw it across the room or to find some lighter fluid and a match to burn the damn thing.

The dedication page read: _Congratulations. You found_ me _. But will_ she _find her way back to_ you _? Good luck._

“What. The _fuck_.” Duke growled at the book.

The book, of course, did not reply.

And even if it had, it probably wouldn’t have helped its case.

Duke flipped the pages, probably a bit more aggressively than was necessary, mumbling threats to rip the pages right from their binding and very nearly doing just that as he continued to flip the pages, until he found the first chapter and began reading, _Jennifer Mason was brought into this world on June 12 th, 1981. She was adopted and raised by Arthur and Imogen Mason…_

The first chapter covered the whole first part of her childhood. The highs, the lows, and it ended with Jennifer being in the kitchen of her childhood home, and her mother telling her about how the little things in life were the most important. It was almost verbatim how Jennifer had told him about that same moment when they had been together. There was no mention of Byron Howard or of Haven, no mention of an inter-dimensional space where Jennifer had been pulled from, there was no Adelaide; it was just her life as Duke understood it had been when he first met her. Part of him felt like he was reading a diary; becoming privy to a part of her life that he had no business knowing about yet or ever. _She_ hadn’t told him about this, _she_ hadn’t shared this with him. He closed the book and shoved it between the back of the couch and the cushions, and began debating what he should do with the damn book, when he heard the quiet sound of a door opening and gently closing from somewhere at the back of the shop.

He heard metal _jangling_ from that same direction, as well as a hushed and anxious, “ _Sh_ , Little John.”

He smiled at the voice, and rolled slightly to pick up his phone from the floor by his shoes to check the time—a little after three in the morning.

She must’ve had a nightmare.

That feeling of déjà vu from earlier came back; of the first time he found her making hot chocolate in the kitchenette on the Rouge. Of course, then she’d been fighting with his flatware and talking to herself about how he was going to think she was snooping through his stuff and trying to find something she shouldn’t _be_ finding.

She walked around the corner of a bookcase that was only a few feet from the couch and peeked at him, trying to determine if he was awake or not. Part of her hoped that maybe Little John’s _jangling_ hadn’t woken Duke on the couch, but another part also hoped that he _was_ awake, just to make her walking around a bit less awkward. There wasn’t anything exactly appealing about the idea of walking around the sleeping form of the man she’d just been on a date with and whom her cousin had insisted on letting spend the night. It was going to be awkward either way, she knew, but maybe if he was awake, that awkwardness would be lessened. She didn’t really know _how_ it could be lessened, but she clung to the hope nonetheless. He was still wearing his jeans and a tank top but he’d shed his over shirt, revealing his toned and tattooed arms. She wondered about the story behind his tattoos; Adelaide usually either had a story behind hers or could make one up on the fly and something told Jennifer he could have some rather _interesting_ stories behind his. Jennifer tried to hide that she was staring at him when he waggled his fingers at her in a wave.

She sighed and stepped out around the bookcase, glad that it was dark enough that he probably couldn’t see her blush, with Little John right next to her as she asked, “It was Little John shaking his head that woke you up, wasn’t it?”

Duke chuckled at her as he sat up, Little John took that as an invitation to cross from behind Jennifer towards him and put his face in Duke’s, tail wagging at a mile a minute. Duke grinned at Little John as he scratched his head and body, mumbling quietly to him about how he was doing and if he was a good boy, to the complete enjoyment of Little John. Duke looked back at Jennifer as she came to stand by the couch, her arms crossed over her chest—she was suddenly _very_ aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra—and her usual mug hanging from one of her hands, “Nah, I’ve been up for a while.”

She gave him an apologetic look, uncrossing her arms and tugging slightly on the hem of her purple t-shirt without thinking, “Sorry, I knew this couch probably wasn’t the best place to set you up.”

Duke shook his head again as Little John sat in front of him, now happily panting as Duke scrunched his face in his hands, trying to focus on Little John and not on what pulling her shirt tight against her front revealed to him, “The couch is fine—I’ve slept on _much_ worse, believe me.”

At her smirk, he continued, “I’ve been having trouble sleeping for awhile now, anyway.”

She shifted nervously, “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Duke waved her off, “Don’t worry about it. And besides, it would look like I’m not the only one. What’re you doing up?”

Jennifer ran her hand through her hair, and he noticed the slight tremor in her hand as she did. With the hair moved further out of her face, he noticed that her eyes were a bit puffy, as if she’d been crying.

Definitely a nightmare.

He fought the urge to stand and close the distance between them, to wrap his arms around her and wait until her shaking stopped, until she was fully back to her usual, feisty, lively self. But it was too soon and he knew it, so he settled for just waiting for her to tell him what happened.

This waiting was going to kill him.

She let out a slow, careful breath as she said, “I had a nightmare. I was just going to—uh. Well, it’s just—um, I usually make—,”

“Hot chocolate?” He smiled at her, saving her from having to explain the whole ritual to him again.

She laughed weakly at him, shaking her head, “Why am I even surprised.”

He studied her for a moment before asking, “Do you…do you want some company?”

She smiled at him, “Sure. Since you’re up anyway.”

She headed towards the kitchenette with Duke and Little John following after her. Little John went to sit in front of the fridge and kept his eyes on Jennifer. He wasn’t watching her protectively, like Duke would expect, but rather like this was part of their routine.

Duke wondered what Little John was to Jennifer. There was no way that the people who’d taken Jennifer couldn’t falsify the love the dog clearly had for Jennifer, but at the same time there was no possible way that Jennifer could’ve had him for as long as she claimed she did. And then there was the fact that Little John seemed to trust Duke not only in general, but even just with being _near_ Jennifer.

Duke sighed internally; Was _anything_ in this fucking shop normal?

As she carefully started pulling out a saucepan and the milk so they wouldn’t make too much noise, Jennifer said over her shoulder to Duke, “So. You know the whole q-e-two deal with my post-nightmare process, I take it?”

“Well enough,” Duke commented as he leaned against the wall he’d stood against before dinner as she grabbed a spoon from a drawer, “Just waiting for you to start talking about it.”

She let out a breath of a laugh as she poured the milk into the pan and began to warm the milk on the stove, “Nightmares probably don’t fit on that ‘normal first date talk’ list of yours, either, huh?”

Duke smirked, “Sweetheart, I think we’ve blown anything ‘normal’ about this straight outta the water by now.”

“Oh, I don’t know; something tells me this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve spent the night at a girl’s house after only one date,” She commented, smirking at him again with her eyes sparkling like they did when she was being sassy at him, as she began to stir the milk fairly consistently.

He shook his head at her, “And you’d be right; but usually I’d be _sharing_ a bed with the girl, not benched on her couch.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She conceded, but then she grinned at him, “But I’m worth the wait.”

 _You don’t know the half of it, Short Stack_ , he thought, barely containing his smile. He got close to vocalizing the thought, but instead went with, “So. About that nightmare.”

She sighed, knowing that they could probably only flirt for so long before they had to eventually get back to the reason for their three a.m. chat, “Okay. So I had this nightmare, right?”

“Established,” Duke conceded, crossing his arms over his chest.

She made a face at him but continued, still stirring the milk, “I was…I was in this room. It was dark green, like a forest green? with white trim for the baseboards and for the closet doors. And I was talking to a therapist who—who, actually now that I’m thinking about it, kind of looked like that weird guy from the park today—I’m sure Freud would be proud of that one—but besides that, it was _extra_ weird, because when I had this same dream _last_ night it was this blonde woman with a nose ring who I thought was supposed to be my friend—but anyway, _he_ was sitting in front of the closet doors, and I just kept trying to tell her about this…this _evil_ , that was with me, and that I needed to stay in the room that we were in, so that whatever it was I had with me couldn’t get out.”

Duke furrowed his brow at her and continued for her as the milk began to boil slightly, “And the therapist didn’t listen to you and he opened the door and the evil got out and that therapist locked you in that room, right?”

She stopped and looked at him, shocked, as he continued, “And the therapist was reading something to you over the intercom that you couldn’t understand while you were trapped in that room and suddenly the room was full of doors; some next to each other, and some on the ceiling and floor?”

She was watching him intently now, eyes wide, and he pushed on, “And you started—you started trying _all_ the doors, trying to get out, but all of them were locked. So you, you pounded and _screamed_ while the same three thoughts kept repeating over and over and _over_ in your head—,”

“No one hears me. No one cares. I am _never_ getting out of this room.” She’d turned from him as she said it to turn off the stove and so she could pull a packet of hot chocolate mix from the box on the counter. She set the packet next to the mug and gave the milk in the saucepan a few more stirs.

She looked over her shoulder at him, risking a nervous smile, as she carefully poured the milk into the mug, “You gonna tell me my shoe size now? Guess my weight or astrological sign? I’m almost _certain_ I’ve seen this carnival trick.”

Duke rolled his eyes at her, earning a chuckle from her as she mixed her drink and turned to look at him.

Her tone turned serious, “So. I’ve obviously had this dream before. And it apparently happened while we were together, though I, of course, can’t remember it.”

It wasn’t a question but Duke uncrossed his arms, tapping his knuckles lightly against the wall behind him as he brought his arms down to his sides, and nodded to her, “Yep.”

“Hm.” She hummed back, taking a drink from her mug and smirking at him, “So, I guess it’d be _pointless_ to tell you the _rest_ of it.”

Duke gave her a confused look, “The rest?”

She gave him a self-satisfied smile as she licked some excess hot chocolate from her lips—she didn’t miss how his eyes seemed to zero in on the action, and that gave her another boost to her confidence as she said, “Oh, so I finally get to surprise Mr. Know-It-All-Pirate-Guy? Must be my lucky day.”

He mirrored the face she’d made at him earlier, earning a giggle out of her. It was short lived, however, as her features darkened and the memory of the dream came back to the forefront of her mind, “You know, it probably wouldn’t have been that bad of a dream except for the end. And I don’t mean the being trapped thing. And actually, you knowing about it _does_ explain—at least in part—why the last part happened. Happens? Oh Christ _that’s_ going to get annoying. And confusing. But, then again, this whole _thing_ is—,”

“Jennifer.” Duke interrupted gently. She’d started to ramble and her breathing had started to get rapid, all things that happened when she was anxious about something she was talking about. Duke wanted to close the space between them and hold her, comfort her. He wanted to tell her that she could stop, that she didn’t have to tell him anything about it if she was so worried about it, but he knew what she’d say if he offered: “A promise is a promise.”

She took a couple of deep, slow breaths, calming herself down. And as if she had read his mind, she mumbled, “I know. It’s okay. I _want_ to tell you. I just…”

He nodded and offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “Take as long as you need, Short Stack. I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”

She let another breath of a laugh, “I’m starting to see that.”

He watched her, waiting for her to tell him the rest of her dream. She took another steadying breath and continued, “Right. So I’m locked in the room just…just _pounding_ on those doors and those same three thoughts are running through my head and that’s, you know, it’s _own_ special brand of bullshit, when it changes—I don’t mean the dream _itself_ changes but that my…my…aw hell, what’s a good word for it, um, my _consciousness_ of the dream changes? Does that make sense?”

Duke just shrugged, “It’s _your_ head, Jennifer. If that’s what you say happened, then that’s what happened.”

Jennifer sighed and took a drink of her hot chocolate. She continued, “Sure. Whatever. Okay. So my _consciousness_ of the dream changed—like, I became _aware_ that after I’d realized I’d been trapped, _that_ was when I’m supposed to wake up—but I _don’t_. So I go from thinking ‘let me out’ to ‘let me wake up.’ Except that it isn’t _just_ , y’know, ‘let me wake up’—which would be it’s own kind of panic inducing mantra—it’s: ‘Let me wake up! _Please!_ Let me wake up, he _needs_ me! Let me wake up!’”

Jennifer sighed again, shifting nervously under Duke’s gaze that had gone from confused and anticipatory to a mixture of confusion, calculation, anticipation, and hope that had sprung up when she’d said “he.” She took another drink to try to buy herself some time before she told him the rest of the dream, and about the voice that she was certain, now, that was his. “And then, while I’m still trying to get myself to wake up, I, uh, I hear _another_ voice.”

She took a steadying breath and looked at him, “ _Your_ voice.”

 _“The day I first started hearing voices—_ your _voice—it was the most frightened I'd ever been in my life. I felt like a fish who'd just been yanked out of the water—crazy, nuts, and powerless. I don't want to feel that way again.”_

He pushed the memory away and raised his eyebrows briefly in surprise and stood from the wall, taking a few careful steps towards her until he could lean against the counter. He was careful to stop before he crowded her out, but he still wanted to be close enough that if she wanted to, she could reach out to him. The situation was so eerily similar to the first time Jennifer had had a nightmare on the Rouge that he half expected her to start rambling about Pluto not being a planet again.

“What…what was I saying?” he asked, watching her carefully.

She bit her lip nervously and shifted again in front of the stove. Little John stood and walked over to her. When he was beside her, he nudged her free hand with his face so that it rested on his head as he sat. His head came just to the middle of her torso like this, and there was something comforting in the amount of space that Little John took up next to her. She looked to Little John, smiling weakly at him, and scratched his head as she said, “You…you were calling my name. You kept saying my name, over and over again, and you sounded—you sounded _desperate_ and scared and—and _lost_ and you said I wasn’t breathing and you kept asking me to wake up and just before I finally managed to wake up—just before I opened my eyes, you—you sound like you’re in pain, like something was _forcing_ you to stop talking.”

Little John whimpered gently under her hand and leaned against her. She knew he wasn’t _worried_ about her; talking about the nightmare wasn’t what made her feel anxious or was what had gotten her speaking so rapidly. Her nerves had more to do with how she’d woken up both times after hearing Duke’s voice like that in her dreams. She moved her hand so that she was scratching the side of his neck, and he tilted his head up towards her, still watching her.

She nervously glanced at Duke, “And both times—when I’ve woken up—I…I’ve felt all that too. I’ve woken up scared, and feeling desperate and lost, but mostly like I’m trapped. And…and like something’s—some _one_ is _missing_.”

She hadn’t missed how Duke stilled, or the tension that sprang up in his shoulders and forehead as his gaze fell just to her left, but she didn’t know what to do or say to lessen it in him. She set her mug down on the counter and took a step towards him. When he didn’t move away or seem to really notice, she risked reaching up to touch his face to get him to look at her, indulging in the impulse she’d had earlier that night. When her fingers brushed his cheek, he all but melted into her touch, his eyes sliding closed as his right hand rose and pressed her hand more firmly against his cheek. Feeling confident, she brought her other hand up to hold his face in her hands and to tilt his head down towards her so that when she spoke to him, he’d look at her. He let her move him how she wanted, and she realized how much he must trust her. Something in the realization made her want to cry; as if some part of her understood that trusting someone didn’t come easy for Duke and as if he was gifting his trust to her when she didn’t think she deserved it yet.

Duke felt like he was going to fall apart; a feeling he really wished he wasn’t so familiar with. _She_ was the one who’d woken up from what could easily be described as a night terror where she’d heard what had been Duke’s last words to her, _she_ was the one who was scared and desperate. Yet rather than ask for something from him, for _comfort_ from him, she saw that _he_ was struggling and wanted to help him. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on her touch, when she whispered his name.

He opened his eyes to look at her and felt what was left of the tension in him fade away. She smiled up at him gently, and all he felt was her warmth. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, “Are you okay?”

He slid his right hand down her arm, rubbing her forearm and trying to find the right words when he just said, “I watched you die.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and he instinctively tightened his grip on her arm, if only slightly, but she didn’t pull away from him as he continued, his voice gruff, “What…what you heard—in your dream—that was—that was what I said before I lost you—or what I said when I _thought_ I lost you.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, and she didn’t pull away from him, she just let out a quiet, “Oh.”

He nodded, leaning down towards her, closer to her. She moved to trail her hands down his arms until she was holding his hands in hers. She smirked weakly up at him, “Well. That just _complicates_ things, doesn’t it?”

He let out a weak laugh, the fact that he’d had the same thought earlier that night only vaguely occurring to him as he looked down at their hands, “Yeah.”

She looked at him, eyes bright in confusion, barely hidden fear and shining with tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. Her voice cracked as she asked, “What, um, what do you think it means?”

Duke shook his head as he let go of one of her hands and carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail along her jawline gently, “I don’t know.”

She coughed, trying to make her sob sound like a laugh, blinking and causing the tears that had gathered to spill from her eyes. It was his turn to hold her face in his hands as he brushed the stray tears away with his thumbs, whispering, “Hey, sh, it’s okay.”

Something in how he was holding her face reminded him of when they had argued about him getting re-Troubled back in what was now starting to feel like a completely different lifetime.

_“We were supposed to have our flavored-coffee commercial tomorrow.”_

Before she could stop herself, she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his chest. His scent surrounded her and it was so _familiar_ and safe that she didn’t bother trying to keep herself from pressing completely against him, or to stop the harder sob that rocked through her. Little John whined gently, taking a step towards them and keeping his eyes on Jennifer but not getting any closer than he had to. Duke froze briefly, unsure of what to do with his arms, before wrapping them around her and holding her closer still as another sob tremored through her and rocked them both on their feet.

This was unfair.

This was completely, emphatically, un-fucking- _fair_.

This was _not_ how he wanted the first time she was back in his arms to go. He ran his fingers through her hair and placed a gentle kiss on top of her head (while he was at it, this wasn’t how he’d envisioned the first time he kissed her— _any_ part of her—would go either), “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out, okay? We will. I promise.”

She nodded into his chest and took a breath so deep her shoulders lifted and sagged with it. They stayed that way a moment longer, as he rubbed her back gently. Every action he took towards her, even his _tone_ , was so gentle and so careful that she was afraid if she stayed like that any longer, she was going to start crying all over again and much harder. The small part of her that had first recognized Duke, that had only grown stronger since the day before, only made that feeling worse. She pulled away from him, even as the small part of her protested the separation, and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, letting out another breath before she turned and looked at the contents of her mug. If Duke didn’t know any better, he’d think she was trying to avoid looking at him. She stared into her mug for a moment before remembering that she still had some milk left so she turned and started making herself another hot chocolate.

“You okay?” Duke asked quietly, after her.

“‘Okay’ is kind of a… _loaded_ word.” She said weakly. She was _many_ things right now but “okay” was decidedly not one of them. She was _tired_ and angry and wanted her mind to be on her side for once.

She paused at her own phrasing.

_For once._

When had her mind ever been against her? Her newly unearthed memories would suggest that this wasn’t the first time her mind had been her enemy, but could she even trust _that_?

Could she even trust _herself_?

 _Jesus, Jennifer, not tonight_ , she thought to herself as she stirred her mug and sighed again, _no more tonight._

She turned back to him, sighing, and asked, “Would…would you mind if I sat up with you? You said yourself you’ve been having trouble sleeping, and I could use any distraction right now to—,”

“No.” He interrupted eagerly, “No, I wouldn’t mind.”

She ran a hand through her hair again, and smiled at him. As she headed back towards the couch, Little John trailing close behind her, she said, “Think we can actually keep our conversation of the normal variety? I think we’ve been failing on it most of today.”

“Well, third time’s a charm.” Duke tried to joke as he turned to follow her.

Jennifer let out a chuckle as she sat on the floor in front of the couch, with Little John stretching out on the floor next to Duke’s boots.

Duke gestured to the couch itself, “You don’t have to—,”

She shook her head as she took a drink from her mug, pulling her legs close to her chest and curling her toes into the plush, shag rug that the couch sat on, on top of the short, coarse, industrial-style carpeting that covered the floor of the shop, “Grab a book; I’ll read you something.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, “I thought we were going to talk?”  
“I changed my mind. I think that if we’re gonna keep talking about things that—until recently—only seemed to happen to people _in_ story books, I’d rather read about how _they_ dealt with it.” She smiled at him, “And I have it on very good, six year old authority that my reading voice is both entertaining and soothing; maybe I can help you get some sleep.”

Duke shook his head at her as he walked towards her. He glanced briefly at the bookcase to his left. As he browsed, she added, “But if my reading doesn’t do it, I’ve been told my singing voice isn’t that bad either.”

“Yeah I heard you singing something to Brielle earlier tonight,” Duke commented, refraining from telling her that he knew she used to sing, and that he knew about her voice; he wanted to try to give her this chance to be normal. She deserved that more than anyone.

She nodded, “Oh, that was her song.”

To his confused look, Jennifer continued, “On the day Desmond found out Adelaide was pregnant, he heard this song called “Brielle” and immediately took to calling the baby that. He would sing it to her when she’d act up in Adelaide, and that was always something he sang to her at night once she was born. They never officially _agreed_ that that’s what the name would be named but once she was delivered and the nurse asked Adelaide what to write down on the birth certificate, Adelaide immediately answered, “Brielle.” Now it’s the only way Brielle can get to sleep—or even if it isn’t, it’s one of the strongest links that she has to her father and Adelaide has no interest in taking that away from her.”

She smiled fondly at the memory and, though she was sure he already knew, explained anyway, “But anyway; I’ve been singing since I was six; through school and a little through my parents’ church. I even kept it up slightly in college. And having a niece keeps me in pretty good practice.”

Duke chuckled lightly, “Why am I not surprised that you were a choir girl.”

“ _Show_ choir girl.” She corrected, smirking at him, “A lot more dancing. But I draw the line at singing for tonight.”

He glanced at her, giving her a sly smile, “Oh? And what would I have to do to get _that_ demonstration?”

She caught on to his meaning and returned his smile, “Wine and dine me, Sailor. _Then_ we’ll talk about a dance.”

He mockingly scowled at her, “Such work.”

She beamed at him, “Oh, but I’m _worth_ it.”

Duke chuckled as he pulled out a battered copy of _The Collected Works of Rumi_ from the shelf. He held it out for her to examine and she grinned at him, taking the book from him and setting the mug down to her left, “You didn’t strike me as the Rumi-kind,”

He got comfortable on the couch behind her; she was sitting by the middle of the couch so he could still see her face, and made a face at her, “I’m just full of surprises, Short Stack,”

“I don’t doubt it,” she giggled as she briefly skimmed the pages of the book before finding a poem and beginning to read to him. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her voice, losing himself to it just enough that he almost thought he could’ve fallen asleep a couple of times. She read for quite some time, pausing every once in a while to look back at him to see if he was still awake. Almost as soon as he realized that she’d stopped, his eyes would open again and he’d be looking at her, waiting for her to continue. Eventually, the warm milk from her hot chocolates starting to make her drowsy, she laid down, resting her head on Little John’s stomach. Little John lifted his head briefly to look at her, only to lie back down, sighing heavily. Duke shifted so that he was lying on his side and was facing towards her, his right arm hanging over the edge of the couch towards her, not touching her, but staying close to her.

She yawned up at him, letting the book fall to rest on her chest, and smiled tiredly at him, “So has this helped at all? You look as awake as you were before.”

Duke smiled down at her and ran his finger over the spine of the book, “I’m plenty relaxed, if that makes you feel better?”

She smirked at him, struggling to keep her eyes open, “A little. You think you’re going to be able to sleep?”

He studied her for a moment, absently tapping the book on its spine now, and before he could say anything, she added, “And I recognize that this would be _another_ moment where it would be really easy to lie to me; so don’t.”  
He smiled back down at her, “Okay. I won’t.”

She reached up and threaded her fingers loosely through his, moving his hand from the book back to her side, “Good.”

He looked at her for a moment before answering her original question, “I think I’ll be able to sleep. Thanks to you.”

She smiled back at him tiredly, “I do what I can.”

He shook his head slightly at her, “No. That’s the thing. That’s the thing about you; you’re always doing _more_ than what you can or what you have to do for people—for _me_.”

She ran her thumb over his knuckles, “Was that why you wanted me? I mean—was that why you wanted to…to be with me?”

“Part of it.” He said back quietly. That only scratched the surface, but they were both too close to sleep to get into it now. Her eyes slid closed and they didn’t open again, her breath evening out. He watched the book rise and fall on her chest for a moment, convincing himself that it would continue to rise and fall like that for the rest of the night, and not suddenly stop like it had under the lighthouse.

She was here.

She was safe.

She was real.

He carefully grabbed the book from her chest with his left hand (which took some rather creative maneuvering on his part so that he didn’t pull his hand from her) and set it to the side. Once it was removed, he reached for his shirt and gently placed it over her as a makeshift blanket. She shifted under it so that it was more around her and so that she was the slightest bit closer to him.

He shifted on the couch, readjusting himself on the couch, when he thought he felt her fingers tighten slightly around his. He looked down at her, barely whispering, “Jen?”

“You cut your hair.” She mumbled, her eyes still closed, as if she were talking in her sleep.

“Yeah.” He whispered back to her. For the first time in a long time, he felt his own exhaustion catch up to him, enough so that he let her mention of his hair barely faze him.

“Why?” she sighed, barely hiding it as a yawn, “I _loved_ your hair.”

“I missed you.” He said. He didn’t know how else to answer or how else to make her understand, so he said it again as he started to fall asleep, “I missed you so much.”

She gently ran her thumb over his knuckles again, “Mm.”

There was a pause, one that was long enough for Duke to think that she’d fallen asleep again, when she quietly mumbled, “You’re growing it back out.”

He chuckled, waking up slightly, and tightened his fingers around hers, “You’re the boss.”

A smile twitched across her face at him as she turned closer towards him, and sighed back, “You’re damn right.”

They both fell asleep, still loosely connected by their hands.


	7. Chapter 7

Jennifer hadn’t opened her eyes yet, but she was decidedly awake. She recognized that she was confusingly sore, her right arm was asleep, and that there was an incredibly bright light coming from somewhere near her because it was shining almost directly into her eyes and making her _quite_ grouchy at it. But underneath all of that initial unpleasantness, she felt…well, she felt at peace. It was the kind of feeling someone only really recognizes for what it is after it’s been gone for a long time. She finally opened her eyes, still groggy, and saw their hands. They had pulled away from each other slightly over the course of the night, but her hand still rested against the couch and his still hung over the edge of it, reaching for her. She liked the contrast of his tanned skin against her paler complexion; she liked the implied contradiction but balancing that it suggested.

She glanced up at Duke to see that he was still asleep. He looked as peaceful as she felt, the knot that had seemed to be permanently between his eyebrows was gone and his breathing was even. She didn’t want to wake him. Something told her that this was the first good night’s sleep he’d gotten in a very long time.

Little John, apparently feeling the movement of Jennifer’s head against his middle, started tentatively wagging his tail against the couch. She let out a quiet breath of a laugh at Little John before absently moving to press a kiss to Duke’s knuckles. His skin was warm and familiar under her lips, and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face in response to those feelings. He shifted as her lips brushed the back of his hand, making her pause in case she’d woken him. Thankfully, he only sighed in his sleep and adjusted his head on the pillow. She studied him for a moment and contemplated kissing _him_ before she just sighed, smirking at herself.

 _Time and place, Jen_ , she thought to herself, _besides, he’ll probably want to be_ awake _when I kiss him._

She released his hand to roll over, away from the couch, and carefully pushed herself up off the floor since her right arm was only just getting blood rushed back into it. As she pushed herself up to her knees, she became suddenly aware of how stiff her neck, shoulders, and back were thanks to the night spent sleeping on the floor. The plush, shag rug had given her some padding between her back and the coarse carpeting that was basically just resting on top of cement, but not enough to be equal to sleeping on an actual mattress—as her aching back was telling her. A shiver ran through her as she stood, her body continuing to slowly wake up with the rest of her, and she grabbed Duke’s shirt that he’d laid over her the night before, shrugging into it to put some distance between her bare arms and the “cold” of the shop. She glanced back over her shoulder towards the couch as she leaned against the doorframe to the kitchenette to check on him. He was still asleep and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face; he looked nice there. She could get used to seeing him asleep like that next to her. She walked into the kitchenette to start on a pot of coffee. She pulled the collar of the shirt up to her nose and took a deep breath, enjoying his scent and the feeling of ease that came over her with it.

_“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”_

She found that she was really starting to like that feeling of safety and peace that came with that thought.

Little John climbed to his feet shortly after she stood, stretching and yawning as he did, and thankfully not shaking his head to cause his dog tags to _jangle_ against him like he’d done last night—she wanted to let Duke sleep for as long as possible and as much as she loved Little John, he could be really obnoxious in the morning.

She recognized that she was moving at half-speed, her body punishing her for spending the better part of the night on the floor when her own bed was within reach, and it was hindering a large portion of her thinking, putting her more on auto-pilot than she’d prefer as she moved around the kitchen. She tried to stretch her arms over her head to get the knots out of her shoulders, only to immediately regret it, as the knots only seemed to get worse and tighten in response to the movement. Her right arm, now apparently filled with pins and needles, certainly wasn’t any happier about being moved around. She looked over the wire shelves, grabbing the can of coffee grounds and a box of Earl Gray tea and set them both on the counter. She yawned, rolling her head against her shoulders, as she grabbed the coffee pot and began to fill it with water. As she did, she tried to figure out if it was coffee or Earl Gray that he usually had before he did his yoga.

Wait a minute.

She froze in front of the sink, still holding the coffee pot in her hand and now startlingly awake. How did she know that? How could she have _possibly_ known about his morning routine enough to question what he preferred? She set the filled coffee pot on the counter next to her, and stared into the sink as she tried to think this through. Little John perked his ears towards her from his spot in front of the fridge, apparently sensing the shift in her, but made no move to get closer to her as she tried to sort through her thoughts.

Of course, she _knew_ how she knew that—she couldn’t have gone through the last few days and _not_ known—but she didn’t know or understand why this kept _happening_. Without pushing, without fighting, all these little _things_ , these little nuances of her forgotten relationship with Duke kept popping up and making her act with a fractured sense of familiarity towards him that was only compounding her confusion about her feelings towards him and probably not clearing anything up on his end.

She liked him, she knew that much even if she didn’t know much else; he made her laugh, made her feel at ease and safe by just being near—but was all of that just because he was helping her to remember? Was it _him_ she liked or what her locked away memories were indirectly making him _out_ to be? Oh god, wasn’t this the same fear she’d had about his feelings for her? Was there _ever_ going to be a point in their… _whatever_ they were, where that question wasn’t going to be hanging over them like a guillotine?

She braced her hands on the sink as she continued to think. The knot in her shoulders from sleeping on floor seemed to only tighten and radiate pain up her already stiff neck and head as she leaned forward slightly.

She sighed before she let out a mirthless breath of a laugh. This was getting _ridiculous_ —and beyond frustrating, and annoying, and tiring and any other litany of synonyms for those same words. She _needed_ more of her own memories—the memories without Duke, the ones that led to him, the ones that could very well be bleeding into her dreams—and she needed them _soon._ She’d told him last night that she wouldn’t compete with a ghost and yet it felt like that was exactly what she was doing in—and for—her own mind.

And that was a terrifying thought.

She rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes closed, trying not to focus on the knot in her shoulders and instead trying to make a plan for the day.

She would talk to Adelaide about doing another pseudo-hypnosis session that day—that was a given—and she’d push and _push_ until she had something closer to _actual_ answers—answers that made sense, answers that would make the throbs stop—no matter what it took.

This ended _now_.

She felt arms wrap loosely around her waist, causing her to let out a small sound of surprise. The arms pulled her back gently against their owner and thankfully out from her thoughts.

She let herself be pulled back before she turned her head to look up at Duke and smiled at him, hoping that her frustration wouldn’t be clear on her face in favor of the relief she felt from being with him, “And good morning to you, too.”

“Mm.” He mumbled back, hair mussed from sleep and bowing his head so his forehead rested on her shoulder. He rocked them slightly as he readjusted his feet and his hold on her, and sighed into her neck. It reminded her of Little John’s reception of her when she’d come home after a long day or from traveling for a particularly intense story—all snuffling and shuffling and trying to be closer to her. Though, she mused, when _Little John_ went to kiss her, he always seemed do it uninterrupted. That thought, however, led to her thinking about tongues—in particular Duke’s—and she rushed to quell the line of thought _that_ would lead to before the blush could be too noticeable to Duke and he’d have to ask her about it.

Instead, she chuckled at him and reached to scratch the shorter hair on the back of his head—something she’d do with Little John when he’d act this way towards her to comfort him—and leaned her head towards his so her cheek rested against his temple. He let out the slightest moan of enjoyment and nuzzled his face against her neck as she lightly let her fingers run through the short hair there and down his neck and what little she could reach of his back. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face, or the blush for that matter at the sound he made, as she asked, “Did you sleep well?”

He sighed as he moved to place his chin on her shoulder, causing her to move her hand to the side of his neck, “Pretty well, all things considered. Especially after a _very_ pretty brunette came and sat with me.”

“Oh?” She smiled, moving her hand from his neck to lace her fingers with his on her waist, “Maybe you should look into seeing that pretty brunette more often, then, yeah?”

“Hoping to.” He mumbled back. She felt the anticipation for him to place a kiss on her neck before she understood it and it only made her earlier thoughts that much more…aggravating. It was just more fractured familiarity that she didn’t know what to do with, even though every part of her _really_ enjoyed that fractured familiarity. The realization made her tense in his arms as she looked away from him and she wished it hadn’t.

He must’ve felt it too—or at the very least he felt her tense—and understood that it wasn’t the right moment for…whatever it was that he was thinking of doing, because he said quietly to her as he squeezed her middle, “I, ah, I woke up and…and you were gone.”

She stilled in his arms further, knowing the importance of that statement without truly being able to completely understand it yet. She wasn’t sure how to reply to that so she went with responding to it as if it were any other statement, and shook her head slightly, still not looking at him, “Sorry, I just, uh, I just figured you’d, um, you’d want some coffee. You know, for when…for when you woke up?”

He tightened his grip slightly around her waist again; “Just…wake me up first, next time.”

She turned in his arms at that, wrapping her own arms around his neck and pushing her initial confusion down in favor of just enjoying this moment. It was only a moment before he was smiling down at her, but it was a moment long enough for her to see the fear and old sadness that had been in his eyes.

She smiled up at him, hoping to flirt with him and distract him, “‘ _Next time,_ ’ huh? Aren’t _we_ optimistic? You think the date went _that_ well?”

“Well, I got to stay the night, didn’t I?” he asked back, still smiling at her and keeping his arms secure around her waist and her close to him.

She mockingly jabbed him in the chest, “Hey, I’ll remind you that it was my _cousin_ who offered you that couch.”

“Uh-huh, but it was _you_ that asked me to stay. And it was _you_ who came out looking for me in the middle of the night.” He retorted, crouching slightly to look her in the eyes and glare at her mockingly as he brought his left hand up and covered hers so it rested against his chest.

“I was not—!” She started, only to be met by his exaggerated look of incredulity. She opted, instead, to just scrunch her nose back at him, and earned a chuckle out of him. He studied her for a moment, a small smile on his face, before he glanced towards the counter as he straightened and saw the coffee and tea on the counter.

She saw him look and pulled out of his arms enough to get back to what she was doing. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, and answered the question in his gaze, “Yeah. Actually, I was, um, I was just trying to remember if it was coffee or Earl Gray that you preferred in the morning.”

Duke looked at her wide-eyed.

Jennifer just nodded, as she let out half a laugh and started trying to roll up the sleeves of his shirt on her arms, “Yeah that was about my reaction too.”

She ran her hands through her hair briefly before starting in on the coffee, trying to joke over her shoulder, “How do you like that, huh? We spend all of twenty-four hours together, and just like that—,” she snapped her fingers for effect, causing Little John to go from sitting to immediately standing at attention by the fridge, “—all these little details about a relationship that I don’t even remember being a part of are just right _there_.”

She let out a mirthless chuckle, the coffee maker starting to churn away, and pulled out a teakettle to boil the water for the option of tea. He never technically mentioned which it was that he preferred, so she figured the option for both wouldn’t hurt anything.

She continued, “Meanwhile, everything _else_ that has to do with how I met you is like…is like grabbing at a shadow in the fucking _fog_.”

She filled the kettle and set it to boil before she turned and looked at him again. He’d braced himself against the counter with his left hand and was watching her carefully. There was something familiar about his positioning, about seeing him in an undershirt and a pair of pants; something that prompted only the words, “I’m an idiot” in his voice to ring in her head.

Nothing else came with the words—not a throb, not an “almost” image of something, _nothing_ —and it only made her more agitated.

 _Speaking of a fog._ She thought bitterly.

Little John whimpered slightly by the fridge, still standing at attention.

She ran her hands through her hair again and sighed as she threaded fingers against the back of her neck, “I’d ask what you think it means, but judging by the look on your face, I’d say we’re both as lost as we were last night, and the day before that, and probably even before _that_ so I guess there’s no real _point_ , right?”

Duke shook his head, “I like it better when you have unfailing optimism.”

She smirked, “You give me something to be optimistic _about_ , Sailor, and I’ll be Suzy Goddamn _Sunshine_.”

Duke sighed, “Jennifer…”

“What?” She all but snapped at him, throwing her hands around as she spoke, “‘Have patience’? ‘We just have to give it time’? God, it’s only been a _day_ and—ugh, aren’t you getting _sick_ of hearing that? Because I sure as _hell_ am getting sick of saying it.”

Duke took a step towards her and placed his hands on either side of her neck, doing the same thing he’d done the night before. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs as he quietly shushed her. She calmed almost instantly and pulled her lips into her mouth so it formed a thin line as she looked at him.

How did he keep doing that? How did he keep making things calm and quiet in her with just a look or a touch? She looked at him and felt tears prickling the backs of her eyes and she wished that she didn’t—it felt like all she’d done the last three days was try—and fail—not to cry.

She placed her right hand over his forearm and she could see him tense, like he expected her to push his hands away like she did the first night they met—were _reunited_ , as her memories were continuing to suggest. She gave his arm a squeeze, trying to be reassuring and to dissuade him from pulling away from her.

Before he could say anything, though, she spoke, “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve me yelling at you about all this. This probably definitely isn’t what you signed up for and I get that, I do; but I—,”

“Would you stop?” Duke interrupted, smiling sadly at her, “Would you just stop for two seconds? What was it that you said your mom called you? The Energizer Bunny?”

She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment but didn’t say anything more, even as she smiled at him. He gently prompted her to tilt her head back, “Jen? Jennifer, hey, look at me.”

She let out a breath through her nose and finally did. Before he could say anything, she spoke again, “Doesn’t this feel _fractured_ , to you?”

He gave her a confused look, “What?”

“This. Us. Whatever.” She said. She’d moved her hands to grab at his tank top, thinking that maybe if she hung on to him, she’d be able to ground herself further, “I just…with all this half-remembering things and all the feelings that come with them—I mean, I’d understand if—,”

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked before he could stop himself. She was starting to sound like she was working towards asking him to go away, and he wanted to give her that out, to show that he understood. This had been an intense two days for her and she was already in a fragile place; he didn’t want to give her another reason to be frustrated or stressed out about all this.

“No.” She said immediately, looking at him in surprise. Little John, who had finally sat back down after realizing that Jennifer’s finger snap had nothing to do with him, perked his ears up as he looked from Jennifer to Duke and back again expectantly. She moved her hands from his shirt so that she reached up and grabbed his forearms again; as if she were afraid he was going to disappear if she didn’t do something to keep him there, or keep her hands moving over him—trying to convince herself that all these different parts of him were connected and therefore real; “No, I don’t want you to leave.”

She shook her head, mostly at herself, “I’m sorry, I—,”

“You don’t have anything to apologize _for_ , Jennifer.” He said, moving his right hand from her neck to her shoulder but keeping his left steady against her neck. She felt like there was an importance to the gesture—in keeping his left hand _there_ as opposed to anywhere else—an importance that she almost understood, but she felt how she had when she’d asked him to stay last night: like it was something that _meant_ something to them, and like she didn’t have a right to it yet.

She wanted to, though. She wanted to finally have a right to it.

She let out a breath of a laugh, “I kind of do, actually. I’m here talking about how I feel that there’s something fractured and out of place about this…this _intimacy_ that’s between us, yet _I’m_ usually the one who initiates it and who pulls away first. Doesn’t that _bother_ you?”

Duke tried to smile at her, “You sure you’re not trying to get _rid_ of me, Short Stack?”

She laughed, bowing her head and letting some of her hair fall in her face before looking back up at him through the fallen locks there, “God, it sounds that way, doesn’t it?”

The teakettle started whistling behind her, making Little John stand back up and “oof” at it, and she turned back towards the oven to turn the heat back down. She turned back to Duke and crossed her arms over her chest, pulling his shirt closer around her.

Duke smirked at her, taking a step closer to her, and reached out to tuck some of the hair that’d fallen towards her face back behind her ear. She closed her eyes, relaxing under his fingers, and focused on his touch, on how it made all the thoughts in her mind calm down until they weren’t acting like buzzing bees defending their hive.

 _Please don’t stop_ , she wanted to say, _please just keep touching me so everything’s quiet, so I stop fighting for half-memories, so you’re the only thing I have to focus on. Please._

“Listen, Jennifer,” Duke was saying as he absently let his trailed his fingers down her jawline, she raised her eyebrows at her name to show she was listening but she still had her eyes closed to focus on his touch, “This is about _you_. So if you feel like acting on that…that _intimacy_ that you feel, then act on it. You _definitely_ won’t hear any complaints from me, I can tell you that much.”

She started to laugh before he’d finished the thought and opened her eyes to look at him. Her eyes were brighter now, no longer as dark and heavy as they had been when she’d first started talking. He brought his other hand up to cradle her face, and she turned her head slightly into it so that his palm pressed more solidly against her cheek.

He smiled back at her and continued, absently letting his fingers trail from her jaw to under her lips and then over them lightly, “And once you _do_ act on that, if it doesn’t feel right anymore, then feel free to stop. You won’t hear any complaints from me on _that_ either.”

Her eyes were sliding closed again even as she smiled lazily at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him towards her, “Oh? Aren’t you the _gentleman_.”

He chuckled as he moved his right hand back to the other side of her neck to tip her head back towards him as he took a step closer to her, letting himself be pulled towards her. As he leaned down towards her, he mumbled, “Heart of gold, sweetheart, remember?”

She smirked as she began to rise on her toes to meet him halfway, her eyes already closed.

“I was summoned by the smell of coffee.” An all too familiar voice said from the entrance of the kitchenette, followed by the telltale rainmaker sound of the beaded curtain parting and falling closed. Little John happily walked over to Adelaide, panting at her excitedly as she scratched his head.

Duke pulled away, sighing, as Jennifer groaned and gestured emphatically, “No, no, no, no, no, _c’mon_ in, you’re not interrupting _anything._ ”

Duke looked at her, wondering if she realized that she was saying something that he’d said when they were together—same inflection and everything—but Adelaide was already moving around them to get to her damn coffee, preventing him from asking her. She was wearing a gray t-shirt that said, “ _To quote Hamlet, Act III, Scene III, Line 92, “No”_ ” in large black print and a pair of dark blue pajama pants with light blue ‘Z’s printed on them with an image of the cartoon character, the Pink Panther, curled up and sleeping on the bottom of the right leg.

She chuckled at her cousin, “’S _my_ kitchen, Jen. You wanna complain about me _interruptin’_ somethin’—,” she shot a pointed look between Duke and Jennifer before smirking, “—or nothin’—,” before Jennifer could snap at her, Adelaide pushed on, “—I’mma have to _remind_ you that you _do_ have your own goddamn room with your _own_ goddamn _real_ door to be as _private_ as you want. _Which_ , I recall, was part of its appeal.”

Duke grabbed a mug and the box of Earl Gray tea while Adelaide grabbed the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. Duke grabbed the teakettle from the stove and took his collection to the table to sit, shooting Adelaide a sideways glare as he went, with Little John following close behind him. Her mouth curved up in a lazy smile around the rim of her mug in response as she leaned back against the counter and regarded Jennifer.

Jennifer scowled at Adelaide from her spot against the sink, “I forgot how _eloquent_ you are when you first get up.”

“What d’you want from me? A _poem_?” Adelaide replied, mockingly sneering at her and prompting a similar expression from Jennifer. They sneered at each other for another moment before Jennifer broke, giggling slightly at her.

Adelaide gestured grandly with her coffee mug, “‘Ode to a Morning: You come in unannounced, you never pay rent, I have to drink heavily to get through being with you; our end is near, don’t prolong it dear. You know what? Just get the fuck away from me.’”

Jennifer laughed uproariously at Adelaide as Duke walked to the table. Duke sat in one of the chairs that faced away from the kitchen and poured the hot water into his mug as Little John took his spot back under the table and rested his head on Duke’s feet.

As her laughter subsided, Jennifer couldn’t help but notice how fond of Duke Little John was and found that she was quite relieved that Little John liked him so much. Jennifer was sure she remembered Little John reacting less than friendly a few times to some of her other dates, and while he’d eventually grown to tolerate them, he’d never been as friendly as he was being with Duke. Duke moved his right foot out from under Little John and rubbed his chest with it, earning a series of contented grunts from Little John as his tail thumped against the floor. Duke mumbled something down to Little John and Jennifer smiled to herself.

Adelaide, mistaking the smile Jennifer had on her face as one meant for her, smiled back at Jennifer before she leaned towards her to kiss her cheek, “Mornin’ Cos.”

Jennifer repeated the sentiment to her, as Adelaide seemed to be made aware of the shirt that Jennifer had on over her usual sleepwear and her smile turned knowing as she plucked at the lapels of the shirt, “Must’ve been _quite_ a night.”

Jennifer gave her a confused look before following her cousin’s gaze to her newly acquired over-shirt. She blushed even as she glared at Adelaide, crossing her arms over her chest defensively thus knocking Adelaide’s hands away, and mumbled, “It’s not what you think.”

Adelaide just smirked at her over the rim of her coffee mug, “I don’t think _anything_ , Jen.”

“Well good, ‘cause _nothing_ happened.” Jennifer whispered harshly at Adelaide before sighing and adding even more quietly, “And at the rate we’ve been _going_ around here, nothing’s _going_ to happen.”

“Not for lack of _trying_ , I’ve noticed,” Adelaide replied, having the good grace to whisper back and shift closer to her. Jennifer looked like she wanted to make another comment, probably about how they kept getting _interrupted_ since they came here, but Duke spoke first.

“You’d be surprised how _well_ someone can hear a conversation going on in the kitchen from here.” He commented, not turning towards them but still making his point and stirring his tea.

Jennifer’s blush only worsened as Adelaide laughed outright and made her way towards the table, “Nothing gets passed you, eh?”

Duke just shrugged, taking a drink of his tea, as Jennifer poured her own cup of coffee. Adelaide took her seat at the head of the table to Duke’s left as he set his mug back on the table, “Something you pick up as a businessman.”

Adelaide chuckled as she leaned back into her chair, “I don’t doubt it. So. How _did_ our local Businessman sleep?”

Jennifer, to distract herself from her rapidly increasing blush, rummaged for the dog food and bowl stand in between the fridge and the wall, causing Little John to crawl out from under the table and excitedly walk to her. She smiled at him, talking to him quietly as he hopped up slightly next to her to sniff at her face and the food. She chuckled lightly at Little John and gently pushed him back down, mumbling, “Ease up there, Little Thing. You’d think I _never_ feed you.”

Duke shrugged again at Adelaide, “Well enough. And before you go trying to make your cousin blush _more_ , she only has my shirt because she sat up with me after she’d had a nightmare.”

Adelaide’s expression turned grave and she turned her gaze to Jennifer as she took the seat to Duke’s right, Little John crunching away happily at his food by the wire-shelving unit. Duke immediately moved his hand under the table to give Jennifer’s knee a squeeze once she was settled. She straightened almost the moment he touched her knee, and once he squeezed it, a new blush flashed across her face. Duke gave her a knowing smile; over a year and he still remembered that her knees weren’t just ticklish—they were also rather pronounced erogenous zones for her. She bit the inside of her cheek but managed to smile back at him—albeit with a little bit of barely concealed agitation—before meeting Adelaide’s gaze. She’d deal with him and his smug, sexy, knowing smile and his warm eyes and his hands—and, oh, the things she imagined he could _do_ with those hands and— _oh don’t follow_ that _thought, Jen, this is_ breakfast _for god’s sake_ —later.

“That’s two days in a row now, Jen.” Adelaide said, either unfazed by her cousin’s shift in demeanor or not noticing it. She ran her finger around the rim of her mug, her gaze still intense over her glasses, “Are we going for a ‘third time’s the charm’ thing, or are you finally just going to tell me about it?”

Jennifer tried to shrug dismissively as Little John, now finished with his breakfast, reclaimed his place under the table with his head on Duke’s feet. Jennifer crossed her legs under the table, taking Duke’s hand in hers to get it off her knee. The action earned her a knowing smirk from Duke, as she tried to reply to Adelaide, “Well apparently it _is_ the third time so—,”

“ _What_.” Adelaide asked, but her tone was strong enough that it could only be heard as a statement. Jennifer recognized it as Adelaide’s pissed off “Mom” voice—she’d only really heard it one other time and the result was Brielle being grounded for two weeks.

Jennifer stiffened in her chair, feeling Little John stiffen himself and adjust his position so that he was closer to Jennifer, as Jennifer narrowed her eyes at Adelaide, “Don’t you be mad at me.”

Duke tensed in the chair next to Jennifer in response to her defensiveness and turned in his chair slightly to act as a wall between her and Adelaide. Jennifer squeezed his hand under the table, trying to get him to calm down again like she’d done the night before.

Adelaide sighed and rolled her shoulders slightly against the back of her chair, obviously not impressed with being on the receiving end of a pair of glares, “I’m not—!” She snapped slightly before she stopped herself.

She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath threw her nose before she tried again, “I’m _not_ mad. I just—just tell me what’s going _on_ , Jen. Please.”

Jennifer studied Adelaide for a moment before sighing as well and leaning back in her own chair, the knot in her back was only made worse from trying to sit up straight in it. She squeezed Duke’s hand again, hoping that he’d calm down enough so that he wouldn’t do anything. She wasn’t sure what she meant by “anything” but she felt like he was capable of it, whatever it was.

Duke let out his own breath through his nose but leaned back in his seat as well, grabbing his mug to try to continue the look of relaxation he was going for. Jennifer wasn’t completely convinced of that though, and rubbed her thumb against his until he glanced over at her. She quirked her eyebrow at him, silently asking if he was going to be all right enough for Jennifer to have this conversation with Adelaide. He squeezed her hand in response and just twitched his forehead upwards, a gesture she took to mean, “This is not what I really want to do but I’ll do it because that’s what _you_ want” and she just smiled back at him, relieved.

She let out a slow breath as she looked back at Adelaide. She started to explain the nightmare—in full this time—being sure to note how the room seemed strangely similar to the room she’d been using in at the shop to Adelaide, before bringing up the discrepancies in between the two times she’d had it, until she reached what she and Duke realized last night.

“Apparently, um, I’ve had this nightmare before.” She fidgeted in her seat, suddenly nervous about how Adelaide would react to her revelation, “From when I was with, um, with Duke. Which has only raised more questions about my memories and only made me more frustrated about them.”

She left out the addition of Duke’s voice at the end of the dream, since that would only lead to the inevitable discussion about how some of her memories—in particular the memories about Duke—came up without any pushing and she still wasn’t sure how to breach that topic with her cousin, or even with herself for that matter. Besides, Adelaide had remained more or less terrifyingly stoic throughout her recounting of the dream and it was starting to make Jennifer nervous.

Duke had watched her carefully as she’d talked, not interjecting or slowing her down, and glanced at Adelaide frequently to gauge her reaction to what Jennifer had said. Jennifer absently squeezed Duke’s fingers under the table, getting him to look at her, and when he did, she half expected him to kiss her cheek or to do something like that but he only looked at her and squeezed her fingers back under the table.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if part of the reason they hadn’t managed a real kiss yet was because he was too afraid to do it. She’d gleaned enough—even if it didn’t feel like very much at all—about what the passed year had been like for Duke to know it hadn’t been _easy_ , but she didn’t know what that meant for whatever they were.

Not that that had anything to do with the conversation at hand, but c’mon, a person can only blame so much of their missed chances on cosmic coincidence before it just _had_ to be about choice, right?

She looked back to Adelaide, who had gone from a blank expression to concentrated confusion as she stared into her coffee mug.

“Adelaide?” She asked gently, bowing her head slightly to try to catch Adelaide’s eye.

“Hm?” Adelaide hummed back, not really looking at her yet.

“Where you at right now, Cos?” Jennifer asked, a small panic settling itself in her stomach, “You’re kind of freaking me out right now.”

She didn’t like Adelaide’s expression or how it seemed to be taking her so long to actually formulate some sort of response to what Jennifer had told her. It was calculating, almost, but mixed with agitation and, worse of all, fear. Adelaide was _never_ afraid; what was happening? Jennifer used her free hand to absently rub at the muscles in her shoulder, trying to get them to relax more and maybe make her head stop hurting by extension.

Adelaide seemed to come back to herself then, shaking herself and sitting up straight, and she tried to smile at Jennifer, “I’m—,”

She stopped abruptly and began to study Jennifer for a moment. She then glanced briefly between her and Duke before finally looking back to Jennifer, her eyes narrowing at her, “— _You_ want to ask me something.”

Jennifer bit her lip and looked into her mug for a moment to avoid her cousin’s rather piercing gaze, “Well. Yes.”

Adelaide looked at her expectantly, though she glanced at Duke briefly, her gaze as calculating as it had been the night before as if she expected him to say or do something, or that she thought whatever Jennifer wanted to ask had to do with him. What was she _looking_ for?

Jennifer shifted in her chair and let out a slow breath, “I want to do that, uh, that hypnosis thing we did yesterday.”

Adelaide nodded slowly; still apprehensive about whatever it really was that Jennifer really wanted to ask her, “That should be fine.”

“But I want to keep pushing even when you think I should stop.” Jennifer said in a rush, knowing that there was a very real chance that Adelaide wasn’t going to like Jennifer’s request.

Adelaide, predictably, bristled, “Jennifer, you don’t _know_ —,”

“And _that’s_ the problem!” Jennifer nearly yelled back, pulling her hand out of Duke’s from under the table so that she could gesture emphatically at her cousin, “I _don’t_ know! I don’t know what I do remember and what I don’t, I don’t know who I am—I don’t know _what_ I am, I don’t know what _Duke_ and I are—for fuck’s sake, Adelaide I don’t know _anything!_ ”

Adelaide had leaned forward at some point during Jennifer’s brief ranting, and spoke back just as adamantly, repeatedly tapping her index finger against the table as she spoke sternly, “Jennifer, I know that this has been _frustrating_ —,” Jennifer scoffed at that, but Adelaide pushed on, “—but you doing that—you _pushing_ like that—isn’t going to help anything. It’s not about you knowing everything right _now_ , it’s about keeping you _safe_.”

“But I’m not safe!” Jennifer yelled back and immediately regretted it.

Adelaide gave her a confused, fearful look, “What are you talking about?”

Jennifer looked away from her for a moment, pulling her lips into her mouth, her regret clear on her face. Adelaide pushed again, “Jennifer, _what_ are you talking about? Of _course_ you’re safe, you’re with _me_.”

 _Not according to what came up last time_ , Jennifer thought but she kept it to herself, afraid of hurting her cousin and her cause more than helping it. She didn’t know how to tell her cousin about the looming dread that she’d felt for the last two days, or how to tell her what Duke had revealed to her yesterday about _why_ he’d reacted to her like he did. She knew she needed to tell Adelaide—she owed it to her—but she couldn’t seem to find the words or the courage to do so.

Jennifer glanced at Duke who was still watching her carefully. He reached out and reclaimed one of her hands and squeezed it, saying quietly, “It’s okay, Jen.”

Jennifer squeezed her eyes closed and let out a slow breath, “I died, Adelaide.”

There was a moment where no one said anything. Jennifer had opened her eyes again and was nervously shifting in her seat as she waited for Adelaide to say something. She didn’t know why that one seemed the easiest between the two things she wanted to tell her, but it was and now she had to wait for the consequences of it. Duke had turned his gaze to Adelaide as well, and was studying her reaction carefully, seeing an interesting parade of emotions flicker across her face that he doubted Jennifer noticed—fear, resignation, relief, acceptance, calculation—they were so fast that even he struggled to categorize them before they were gone again, and the parade of it all only made him angrier, and more suspicious of her. Finally, Adelaide leaned back in her chair, her face pale after finally settling back appropriately into fear, as she whispered, “What?”

Jennifer sighed and shook her head, apparently having only seen the fear in her cousin’s face and not any of the other emotions that flickered across it, “I don’t really remember why or _how_ yet—that seems to be one of the memories that I have hidden away in my head—but it’s…it’s true. I died.”

There was another moment of silence as Jennifer let Adelaide process that information before she spoke again, “And Duke hasn’t said anything more about it yet, but—,”

Adelaide glared at Duke who only bristled further under her gaze, “You _knew_? This whole time you’ve been in _my_ home and you _fucking_ —,”

“Adelaide _don’t_.” Jennifer said sternly, Little John growling lightly by her feet. Adelaide stopped, turning her gaze back to Jennifer, and while the anger there was enough to make Jennifer want to flinch away from her, she steeled herself and glared back at her cousin as she said forcefully, “It’s not his fault.”

Adelaide scoffed briefly, moving to make some sort of comment about how Jennifer couldn’t _possibly_ know that for sure, but Jennifer spoke again, “At the end of the dream—the nightmare—I start to hear this voice—and it’s a—it’s one that’s so full of fear and desperation that it wakes me up feeling those same things. It’s _Duke’s_ voice that I hear, Adelaide. It’s _his_ voice that pulls me out. _He’s_ why I want to push more.”

Adelaide pulled her lips into her mouth, an expression similar to Jennifer’s, and looked between them again. She studied Duke for a long moment, obviously noting that Duke’s hackles were still raised and that they didn’t seem to be lowering any time soon. Adelaide couldn’t blame him—she’d be on her guard too if she were in his position—but she didn’t flinch away from the challenge he was posing in his gaze, something that, under very different circumstances, Duke would’ve respected.

Duke refused to back down as well; even without the legitimate feelings of agitation he had about Adelaide snapping at him or with the residual agitation that Jennifer had towards Adelaide just a minute before; something in the way she’d reacted told him that something was off—she knew much more about the situation than she was saying.

And he was getting really fucking tired of that seeming to be the case about everything relating to Jennifer lately.

They glared at each other for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before Jennifer nervously tried to joke, “Kind of makes your concern for my safety seem silly, huh? Since the worst thing that could happen to me already has?”

Adelaide turned her gaze to her to look at her in disbelief, before Jennifer stammered, “I’m sorry that was a bad joke—not that this is funny in anyway—I just—No one ever really prepares you for a talk like this you know? I mean, how the hell do you even say “Hey Cos, just wanted to let you know that among a bunch of memories that I didn’t even know I had I also seemed to have died”? Well, I guess I did—just say that, that is. But anyway, so I don’t really know how to—,”

“Jennifer?” Adelaide said exasperatedly, rubbing her eyes with the thumb and forefinger of her right hand as she spoke.

“Yeah?” Jennifer answered, nervously biting her lip.

“Please.” Adelaide moved her hand from over her eyes to hold it up at Jennifer, “Just. Stop.”

Jennifer nodded, pulling her own lips into her mouth so it formed a thin line and leaned back in her chair. Little John, apparently convinced that the danger from earlier had passed, sighed under Jennifer’s feet again, turning it into a whine towards the end of it. She patted him with one of her feet and absently raised her free hand to squeeze the junction of her neck and shoulder, trying to force the knot out of the spot there again.

Adelaide arched an eyebrow at her cousin, “Sleeping on the floor coming back to bite you on the ass?”

Jennifer let out a nervous chuckle as she nodded back.

Adelaide watched her for another moment before she sighed, nodding towards the door, “Go on up and shower, Jen. The hot water will help to work out the knots in your back. We’ll talk more about a ‘pseudo-hypnosis’ session once you’re a bit more relaxed.”

Jennifer grinned at Adelaide, relieved that she’d be willing to indulge Jennifer in letting her pull up more of her memories. Adelaide just smiled back, even if it was a bit tighter than Jennifer would’ve preferred, as she grabbed her coffee mug again.

Even with her relief, though, she glanced between Adelaide and Duke, clearly seeing the tension between the two of them and not wanting to leave them alone together to fight. Adelaide’s smile turned sympathetic, if not a little understanding as she looked back at her, “Don’t worry, Jennifer; we’ll play nice.”

At Jennifer’s skeptical look Adelaide chuckled and made a show of drawing an ‘X’ on her chest, over where her heart was, with her free hand, “Promise.”

Jennifer glanced back at Duke, hoping to earn the same promise from him. He studied her for a moment, watching her eyes nervously flicker between his and zeroing in as she bit the corner of her lower lip again. Before he could stop himself, he kissed the corner of her mouth, getting dangerously close to a real kiss. It was as much as he knew he could handle in that moment; just feeling the softness of her skin under his lips again, being close enough to breathe her in—it was so much more than he remembered it being, and so much more than he knew how to handle.

He pulled back to smile at her and it took everything in Jennifer not to grab him and pull him back and finally kiss him for real. His smile gained a smug edge to it as he looked back at her, making Jennifer glare at him.

 _Oh you ass_ , she thought to herself, narrowing her eyes at him, _you know_ exactly _what you’re doing, don’t you?_

“We’ll be two peas in a pod by the time you get back; Scout’s honor.” Duke said, still smirking at her. He didn’t miss the frustration in her eyes, and damn if that didn’t make his smile grow.

She narrowed her eyes playfully at him, “Something tells me you were never in the Scouts.”

Duke just grinned back at her and leaned into his chair, “Oh sure I was, you know; ‘First do no harm,’ ‘talk shit get hit,’ uh, ‘always be prepared,’ ‘first rule of Boy Scouts: don’t talk about Boy Scouts;’ all that,”

Jennifer laughed, “Oh Duke, _no_.”

“Well, what about ‘do no harm but take no shit’?” Duke asked, smiling at her.

“Oh shut up,” Adelaide commented from her chair as she took a drink from her mug, stifling her own laughter. Jennifer mockingly glared at her cousin who held up her free hand to stay Jennifer’s remark, “Honest, there will be no fighting while you’re gone.”

Duke tried to smirk at Jennifer as well, to make her feel better about leaving them alone, and gave her hand another squeeze as she stood from her chair to head upstairs, “Besides, you’re the only one who can really get me to shut up.”

Little John climbed out from under the table, shaking himself, before trotting through the beaded curtain and out of the kitchenette. Jennifer imagined that he was headed back to his couch or to lie in one of the sunrays that were still pouring in through the display windows.

Jennifer laughed as she walked around his chair so she stood behind him and casually looped her arms over his shoulders and around his neck so that her hands rested on his chest, “Right. Well, when I finally get to _enact_ that power, you let me know, yeah?”

He turned his head to look up at her and smiled at her, placing his own hand over her forearm there and stroking her arm with his thumb, “You’ll be the first to know, Short Stack.”

She grinned back and kissed his forehead before she could think to stop herself, earning a knowing look from Adelaide who commented, “Well. Aren’t _we_ awfully familiar after just one date? You sure there’s no extenuating circumstances behind you wearing our local Businessman’s shirt, there, Cos?”

Jennifer just made a face at her before addressing Duke, “Though that does remind me; do you want it back? I mean, I don’t know what else you have for clothes and I don’t want to keep you from the ones that you _do_ have so—,”

He just squeezed her arm, “Nah, why don’t you hang on to it for now for me? I think I have some spare clothes in my truck anyway.”

Jennifer smirked at him, “Well look at you; Mr. Preparation.”

“I was in the Scouts, remember?” Duke quipped back.

Jennifer just shook her head at him before he murmured low enough so she was the only one to hear him; “Besides, I always did like seeing you in my shirts.”

Jennifer blushed bright pink to the tips of her ears before trying to smile back at him nonchalantly. Oh, she was going to make him pay for this; even if she didn’t know how yet, she was going to get him back.

He chuckled at her before she started to pull away, letting her hands drag over him and across his shoulders as she went. He tried not to close his eyes at feeling her fingers drag across his skin like that, he tried not to grab her back and have her settle into his lap just so he could hold her close. Instead, he held his left arm up and out to try to prolong her touch, until her hand was in his. He held on to it until she had to stretch her own arm out, as equally unwilling to end it as he was. They smiled at each other for a moment before Jennifer finally pulled her hand free from him and headed back out to the rest of the shop and towards her cousin’s shower.

Duke watched her leave before turning back to Adelaide.

* * *

Little John, predictably, was lying on the floor directly in a square of sunlight that was coming in through the display windows so that most of the light was on his body while his head was outside of the square of light. Jennifer shook her head at him and mumbled at him about being lazy. His tail just thumped against the floor—mostly because he heard her voice, she was sure, not because he understood what she was saying—and she made her way towards the spiral staircase towards the loft. Jennifer tried to think about what the day was going to hold; what were they going to do after she pushed? Would they all just go back to their usual routine? How could they?

She sighed as she walked passed the psych section, glancing at the door there before starting her climb up the stairs. Well, regardless of what else happened today, she knew that Little John was going to need to go out soon. Maybe she and Duke could go for another walk. Maybe go near the water. If they found a bridge she could teach him how to play Pooh Sticks, like she used to do with Robbie the few times it would just be them after Aunt Laetitia died.

He used to like watching the sticks float on the water, whether or not he won never seemed to matter to him; he just loved seeing them gently drift away. Adelaide was out of the house enough under the guise of playing with friends in the neighborhood—sometimes she actually would be, other times, Jennifer knew, she’d been “running wild” and getting into fights—but Robbie didn’t have that luxury. It wasn’t that Robbie didn’t have friends, but as an eight year old whose mother just died, he wasn’t exactly great, or even very _willing_ , company for the other neighbor kids. Even if he had been, however, for the first few months after Aunt Laetitia’s death he was usually too anxious to actually leave the house. Jennifer was the only one that could get Robbie to go out and do things, mostly because she was good about taking him to quiet places; like the library, or to the park, or just sitting with him in his room and reading something to him. He used to say that she sounded like his mom. Even at twelve Jennifer knew that that probably wasn’t possible, but it comforted Robbie and that was enough for her.

She shook her head to try to get her mind off of Robbie—that was still too raw of an emotion for her to deal with right now, let alone her new questions and doubt about the validity of her memories about him and “their” family, and there were more pleasant things for her to think about; like what she and the gorgeous man downstairs could do today. Maybe they could go to the ocean instead. That’d be nice; a walk on the pier, then on the beach where Little John could run for awhile, and they could sit and talk. There’d be a lull in the conversation, he’d look at her with those warm, soft, dark brown eyes and he’d smile at her knowingly and she’d finally grab him by his shirt and know what it was like to kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

She sighed wistfully at the thought, and let her mind wander a bit further.

Maybe they could go somewhere sunny. That felt like a wonderful idea—where she could wear a bikini, where he could relax for once and she could have a drink in a coconut (which was something she always wanted to do), and they’d swim in the ocean and lounge on the beach all day, and forget all about a little—

Wait.

This felt too much like a memory to just be a fantasy. It felt like maybe they had talked about this before. But that couldn’t possibly be right, could it?

“Hi Auntie Jen.” Brielle said from the couch as Jennifer walked into the loft through the beaded curtain. The sound of Brielle’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she grinned at Brielle. She walked around to the back of the couch and leaned over it to see what Brielle had in her hands. She was watching one of her cartoons on the iPad Adelaide had gotten her for her last birthday. Adelaide and Brielle had an agreement that on Sundays Brielle could spend the morning watching cartoons until 11, and then it was homework and helping around the shop for the rest of the day. Right now, Brielle was staring the slightest bit slack jaw at the screen in her lap with her purple teddy bear to her left and the purple haired troll doll to her right.

Jennifer scratched the crown of Brielle’s head as she leaned further forward to look at the screen with her, “What’cha watchin’, honey?”

“ _The Amazing World of Gumball_.” Brielle said numbly, not looking up from the screen.

Jennifer watched the screen for a moment with Brielle, before letting out a mockingly disapproving chuckle and kissing Brielle’s head. She straightened from the couch, stretching her arms above her head as she went, and headed towards the bathroom just behind the couch, “Don’t watch too much of that stuff, Bri, it’ll rot your brain.”

“Mm.” Was the only response as Jennifer started shedding first Duke’s shirt and then her own as she kicked the door closed behind her.

She took her time in the shower, letting the hot water work on her back and shoulders and trying to get herself to relax so that if and when she and Adelaide did something to help her unlock more of her memories, she’d be able to get the most of it. Her mind wondered, more frequently than she would be willing to admit, to various fantasies involving the aforementioned gorgeous man downstairs, specifically about how very different this shower would be if he was with her; thoughts of hands, of skin brushing skin, of curious mouths and hands exploring and tasting bodies, of the feeling she’d gotten when he’d kissed the corner of her mouth only amplified throughout her whole body, of hearing him sigh her name in relief and frustration, and of finally getting him back for the teasing he’d put her through at breakfast—all of that paraded through her mind as the hot water thrummed against her back.

Those thoughts, however, were usually, and often quickly, squashed before they went too far—Brielle was in the living room literally on the other side of the bathroom door and she was an adult who was capable of controlling herself.

At least, that’s what she kept repeating to herself until she finally left the shower. Though, for a couple of those fantasies, they felt closer to memories, just like the “somewhere sunny” thoughts from earlier—and that certainly only complicated her shower thoughts more.

It certainly didn’t _quell_ any of those fantasies, that’s for damn certain.

She grabbed her green robe from the back of the bathroom door once she was done in the shower and wrapped herself in it. She debated, only briefly, slipping back into his shirt and only that— _that_ would certainly get him back for the knee-squeeze and the comment about liking seeing her in his shirts—but decided against it, rationalizing that that was more of a revenge plan for _after_ something actually happened between them and not before—and again: Adult. Self Control.

Once the robe was secure around her, she cleared the mirror of the steam on it with her sleeve and studied herself for a moment. She pushed her hair off her forehead; her hair was already turning into a bit of curled mess so she ran her fingers through it to try to untangle it. Regardless of fantasies, messy hair was certainly not a part of the plan for the day—well, it _was_ but not at the beginning—she grabbed another towel from behind her and rubbed her hair with it to try to dry it, opening the bathroom door and walking out into the living room. She bowed her head so her hair fell in front of her face and wrapped her hair in the towel, throwing her head back once it was done so that the excess towel rested on top of her head.

“I can’t wait until I get to do that.” Brielle commented from the couch, now sitting up on her knees so she could lean on the back of the couch to talk to Jennifer.

Jennifer smiled at her as she turned and picked her clothes up off the bathroom floor, draping them over her arm, “I can teach you if you want.”

Brielle shook her head, “Momma says I’m not allowed to learn how to do that until I’m sixteen.”

Jennifer gave her a confused look before shaking her head at her, “Your Momma’s weird.”

Brielle smiled at her, “I know, but I think I’ll keep her.”

Jennifer kissed her forehead as she headed towards the stairs, “You’re a tiny saint, honey.”

Brielle just giggled in response, and climbed off the couch to head for her own room to get dressed, her teddy bear and troll doll still sitting on the couch with the iPad. Jennifer headed back down the stairs to get dressed herself. She glanced towards the front of the shop and saw Duke outside on his phone, talking adamantly to someone. She wondered if maybe one of his business ventures—“below board” or otherwise—was going to pull him away from her and she immediately started feeling a bit of nervous anticipation at the thought of the conversation. She tried to quell it though; it was only their first date after all, it wasn’t as if he was tied to her for any reason and he could certainly leave whenever he wanted to—she just _really_ didn’t want him to. She could hear Adelaide in the kitchen, probably also on the phone—with Holly if her tone indicated anything. She couldn’t make out exactly what Adelaide was saying, but it sounded like she was trying to get Holly to agree to something.

Jennifer glanced at the door in the psych section again as she walked forward a bit to see where Little John had gone, and saw that Little John had moved from under his sunbeam to sit at the mouth of the section, staring quizzically at the door. She could distantly hear _something_ through it herself and it was evident that Little John heard something too from the way his head kept cocking from one side to the other, but it was either too muffled or whatever-it-was was being too quiet for her to hear it clearly. She briefly thought about walking to the door to see if she could hear it more clearly, but shrugged off the thought in favor of just heading to the back of the shop towards her own room to get dressed. She closed her door and immediately started trying to figure out what to wear for the rest of the day; and if that phone call _was_ for something that was going to pull Duke away for something, she wanted to give him as many reasons as possible to put it off.

She’d never been with a guy that she wanted to spend as much time as possible with, especially not so soon after the first date. But then again, she didn’t think that she’d ever been with someone who made her feel like Duke did. She wondered if maybe they could go to dinner tonight. Maybe go to wherever he was staying after rather than back to her cousin’s bookstore; maybe _actually_ have a chance to get to know each other. It was that thought that led her to a light blue lacy bra and panty set to wear under her dress—cute enough so if something _were_ to happen between them she wouldn’t be embarrassed but casual enough that if nothing happened (and god help her if _nothing_ happened) she wouldn’t be _uncomfortable_. Secure in her decision, she moved to grab one of her dresses from the trunk at the foot of her bed. It was a yellow-and-blue watercolor dress with magenta flowers printed on the skirt. The pattern of flowers went from dense on the skirt to thinner as it went up the bodice until there were only a few printed faintly on one of the shoulder straps. Once she was zipped into the dress, she grabbed a pair of white leggings that looked like they were made of lace, as well as a white blazer to go over the dress. She grabbed a pair of open toe wedges that perfectly matched the eyelet pattern of her blazer, slid into them, and tried to fluff her still damp hair with her hands as she studied herself in the mirror again.

She had tried to come up with an outfit that would still be cute and pretty should she and Duke do something, but casual enough so that she could just be cute around the shop if that’s where they ended up. She knew she still needed to fix her hair and makeup, but she was hungry now since a couple cups of coffee does not a breakfast make. She turned around and grabbed her yellow flower earrings from her dresser. She opened her door and began putting the earrings in when she looked at the door in the psych section for a third time. Only this time, she actually _looked_ at the door there. Mostly because for the first time since she realized there _was_ , in fact, a door in the psych section, that prior to today there had _never_ been a door in the psych section. When she had glanced at it previously, for whatever reason, she hadn’t thought it was odd that it was there like she did now. It was as if it was supposed to be there, that it had always been there, but it was at the same time so foreign and out of place that it _had_ to be noticed and seen as strange.

She looked at Little John who was still staring at the door expectantly, head still turning from one side to the other, and asked quietly, “What’s going on, buddy?”

Little John glanced briefly at her, tail twitching in a tentative wag, but went back to staring at the door and so did she.

It wasn’t a particularly ornate door—in fact it was a rather nondescript door—solid wood and dark brown so that it almost blended into the shelves around it. It honestly looked a lot like the door to her room.

But it hadn’t been there yesterday. She was sure of that much. She glanced towards the front of the shop to see if Adelaide was looking towards her, but Adelaide and Duke seemed to be having a rather intense discussion, albeit quietly. They weren’t paying attention to her, but she wanted to draw their attention to her and to the door—because _surely_ this classified as something that they would both want to know about—but then the _something_ she’d been hearing from the door started again, and this time, it almost sounded like that who or whatever was on the other side of the door was saying her name. She turned back to the door and stared at it, suddenly more than a little nervous about being near it, but also wanting to open it and find out just what or who the hell was on the other side of it. She took a careful step towards it, and it was like the voices on the other side of the door got the slightest bit louder but not clearer, it was like a gradual, growing roar in her ears where she could only just barely make out her name in the swell.

She knew this feeling.

She’d done this before.

But _when_?

She distantly heard Little John growl at the door, or at her, and considered, in the back of her mind, that when the animal companion in any other story growls at something inanimate, it usually means trouble and that the protagonist should _definitely_ not be doing whatever it is she’s doing around or with said inanimate object. She wanted to turn away, she wanted to yell for Adelaide or Duke, she wanted to do _something_ , but she found that the only thing she could do was keep walking towards the door.

Under the lighthouse.

It had been her choice to open the door—Duke had tried to change her mind— _We were supposed to have our flavored coffee commercial tomorrow—_ they all knew it was her choice, that she had to be the one to do it. But Duke was hurt—no, they needed someone back—no, they needed to _put_ someone back—God, and the voices were louder, more demanding, more _insistent_ — _There is nothing that could ever make me go through that door and leave you._ Nothing—she wasn’t strong enough.

_Dave was right. We never should’ve opened the door._

_Don’t unlock doors you aren’t prepared to go through._

_A door once opened can go both ways._

_To receive something, something must be taken._

She felt the beginnings of panic root itself in her stomach, causing it to churn and twist in her middle, and her heart was starting to thunder against her ribcage; this didn’t feel right. She didn’t want to open the door. It felt too much like the “some-thing evil” from her dream. She wanted to stop this now, to walk away and pretend she’d never seen this damn door, or heard anything on the other side of it—she wanted to _wake up_. But she couldn’t—she’d set something in motion that she couldn’t control anymore, if she ever could, and she was going to have to see this through.

This wasn’t her choice anymore.

She was certain that she could almost clearly make out her name now, and something else as well.

_Open the door, Jennifer. Open the door._

_No one hears me._

_No one cares._

_Come back to us, Jennifer. Come back to us._

_I am_ never _getting out of this room._

She reached for the door handle.

* * *

Duke and Adelaide sat in painful silence at the table for a long moment after Jennifer left the kitchenette. Adelaide continued to drink her coffee and when Duke opened his mouth to say something, she held her finger up to stop him. She tilted her head slightly as if she were listening for something. When she heard whatever it was that she was waiting to hear, she smirked at Duke and lowered her hand.

Pushing his agitation down at being shushed like a toddler, Duke tried to say something again to her, only to be cut off _again_ when she spoke first, “You’re gonna wanna take that.”

Duke gave her a confused and went to ask her what the hell it was that she was talking about, when he felt his phone start to buzz in his pocket. Duke looked from her to his pocket and back, earning an annoyingly smug smile from Adelaide as she mockingly toasted Duke with her coffee mug, “I’ll wait.”

Duke fished his phone out of his pocket to see that it was Dwight calling. He narrowed his eyes at Adelaide, who only continued to smugly drink her coffee. He stood and made his way out towards the main floor of the shop. He briefly debated taking the call in the shop but if this _was_ about the owner of the bookstore he was in, he didn’t want to risk any eavesdropping—even if she did seem to already know what was happening.

He pressed the “accept” button as he pushed the door open to the street, squinting as his eyes struggled to adjust to the light, “Dwight?”

“Duke! Finally! I’ve been trying to call you all morning.” Dwight said earnestly on the other end of the line.

Duke pulled his phone away from his ear to look at the screen, to see if that were true. His screen, however, showed that there were no missed calls or text messages; there was no indication of any kind that _anyone_ had been trying to get a hold of him prior to this call. He furrowed his brow in confusion, but he had a guess that Adelaide had answers about that—just like she seemed to have answers about everything _else_ that was happening around here. Duke addressed Dwight again, “Uh, sorry ‘bout that. I guess I just didn’t have a signal or something.”

Dwight just sighed on the other side of the line, “The less I know, right?”

Duke let out a breath of a laugh, “Sure. But since I doubt you called me to just confirm what you _don’t_ know or _want_ to know, why don’t you tell me what you _do_ know and what _I_ want to know.”

“Right.” Dwight said, “So. About that woman you had me look up.”

“What did you find?” Duke asked eagerly. Finally, a chance to even the playing field on his end; Adelaide wasn’t the only one who could play the whole sage, all-knowing, Yoda-in-a-trash-can card after all.

“Adelaide Jane Bouquin,” Dwight said blandly, clearly reading from whatever report he’d found or put together about the woman, “born February 2nd, 1983 to Laetitia Moore and Noël Bouquin. Mother died in ’93 due to a preexisting heart condition, father in 2001 in an accident, brother in ’09 due to self-inflicted injuries. Juvie record for one instance of aggravated assault, one instance of trespassing, and one of vandalism; all charges expunged upon eighteenth birthday. Married a Desmond Alonso Rousseau in ’05—on Halloween actually, if that tells you anything else about the woman. She gave birth to a daughter, Brielle Cadence Bouquin-Rousseau on August 12th, 2008. Want to know how much she weighed?”

Duke rolled his eyes, “Hilarious. What else?”

Dwight chuckled over the phone, before continuing, “Husband died of an inoperable brain tumor in 2011. After the death of her father, Adelaide became the owner of her family’s store, Bouquin Bros. Used and New Books, has not remarried, and her daughter attends an elementary school in the Boston School District.”

There was a pause as Duke waited for Dwight to continue, when he didn’t say anything more, Duke said incredulously, “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Dwight conceded, “I could go into more detail on what I _do_ have if you want—mostly hospital records, some report cards, public record stuff.”

Duke sighed, “No—I’m pretty sure I already know the details. Well, thanks anyway Dwi—,”

“Just wait a minute,” Dwight interrupted, surprising Duke, “That’s all I have for _legal_ documents—it’s what I found on the _Internet_ that’s really interesting.”

“Dwight, while I and other singles in the greater Haven area are _so_ relieved that you now know how to work the Internet, I really don’t think that knowing the contents of her _Facebook page_ is going to help me here.”

“Would you just… _shut up_ and listen to me?” Dwight replied shortly to Duke’s comment.

Duke chuckled but held his tongue as Dwight continued, “I did just a general Google search on her—,”

“Cutting edge police work, ‘Squatch.” Duke remarked, standing from leaning against the display window of the shop and crossing the street towards his truck to check for that change of clothes that he told Jennifer he was sure he had.

“I don’t _have_ to fucking tell you, you know.” Dwight snipped on the other end of the line as Duke snatched a parking ticket from his windshield. He glanced at it before unlocking the truck and adding it to the others that were stashed away in his glove compartment.

Duke gestured emphatically as he climbed into the truck to start looking, though he knew Dwight couldn’t see him, “Sorry, sorry. _Last_ one, I promise.”

“Whatever,” Dwight grumbled in response, earning another chuckle from Duke before he continued, “So I searched her and, get this, there are at least _twelve_ different variations of an ‘Adelaide Bouquin’ in different stories—,”

“ _Stories_?” Duke interrupted incredulously as he rooted through things in the back of his truck until he found his old overnight bag.

“Always be prepared,” Duke mumbled under his breath as he pulled the bag into his lap before climbing out of the truck with it.

“ _Stories_.” Dwight repeated firmly as Duke locked his truck again, “From all over the world. And all the versions of her follow the same pattern: married to a variation of ‘Desmond Rousseau,’ widowed young, single mother to a variation of ‘Brielle Bouquin-Rousseau,’ owns a bookstore—there are just minor differences in the details between them all.”

“What? How is that even…?” Duke started to ask, his confusion and disbelief clear, and yet at the same time, he almost wasn’t _that_ surprised. Since Duke had met her, she’d been more than a little omniscient about…well, everything—why _wouldn’t_ she be in stories? And besides, very little about his life surprised him anymore. He resumed his spot against the display window of the shop, setting his bag on his feet.

Dwight just laughed dryly back at him, “That was about my reaction. So who is this woman? Is she Troubled? Is she the byproduct of a Trouble? Do I need to bring in Audrey and Nathan on this? And _what_ does this have to do with Jennifer?”

Duke waved frantically in front of him as if he were trying to cut off Dwight, “No. No, absolutely do _not_ involve Nathan and Audrey. I can handle this.”

“If you say so,” Dwight sighed on the other side of the phone, though his apprehension was clear in his tone, “but what is ‘ _this_ ’? _Who_ is Adelaide?”

Duke rubbed his forehead and sighed, “I don’t know—I mean, she claims to be Jennifer’s cousin—,”

“I didn’t think she had any family?” Dwight interrupted.

Duke just nodded, “That was my understanding as well, but _now_ …man, I just don’t know. I don’t know if she’s Troubled, if she’s the result of a Trouble, I don’t know what she has to do with Jennifer—I just know that she’s certainly causing _me_ a fuckton of trouble, _whatever_ she is.”

“Oh no, someone’s being obstinate while you’re trying to do something? I can’t _imagine_ what that’s like.”

“Ha. Ha ha.” Duke laughed sarcastically back, earning a laugh out of Dwight before a pause fell over them.

“How’s Jennifer doing?” Dwight asked carefully, lowering his voice slightly.

Duke sighed, letting his head roll back against the display window, “You remember how she seemed to just bounce back from everything Haven threw at her?”

“Of course. That hasn’t—?”

“No, no that hasn’t changed.” Duke said quickly as he immediately moved his head from the window, stopping the question before it started, and laughed slightly, “She’s, uh, she’s actually pretty _spry_ for a dead girl.”

“ _Wow_.” Dwight said sarcastically on the other side of the line, only prompting Duke to laugh a little harder in response.

“She’s…” he started to stay, tone turning back to serious, as he shook his head in disbelief, mostly for his own benefit “She’s _fine_. Doesn’t remember Haven or any related things, though, so that’s made things… _complicated_.”

“Jesus,” Dwight sighed, “And neither of you have any idea what’s going on?”

“No,” Duke shook his head, “But the second I do, you’ll be the first to know. Later Squatch.”

“Keep me posted.” With that, they ended the call, and Duke was left on the street outside of shop. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the window of the shop, enjoying the feeling of the sun and figuring out what he was going to confront Adelaide about once he went back into the shop. He had hoped that the call from Dwight would’ve been more illuminating than it had been. But like most of the mysteries in his life, all he had were more questions than he did answers.

It was time to confront the source.

He sighed, put on his ‘game face,’ grabbed his bag from between his feet, and opened the door to the shop, striding back in purposefully. He wasn’t even surprised when he saw Adelaide standing at the counter, coffee mug still in hand, smirking at him knowingly.

“So,” she greeted, finishing her drink and setting her mug on the counter, “did your police friend give you all the answers your little heart could take about yours truly?”

He glowered at her as he put his bag on the floor against the counter and that only seemed to make her smile grow, “I thought not.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the shelves behind the counter, as Duke asked, “So are we going to actually _do_ the whole ‘question-evasion’ dance or are you just going to finally tell me what the fuck’s going on here?”

She tsked her tongue at him, “That’s no way to ask a lady to dance.”

“You _show_ me a lady, Bouquin, and I’ll show you manners the likes of which the male protagonists of those ‘historical fiction’ smut books you think no one knows about in your nightstand have never seen before.” Duke snipped back.

“ _Well_ , look you had a little _pissant_ with his tea this morning.” She laughed back, pushing herself off the shelves to brace herself on the counter, “I gotta tell you though, Crocker, _this_ —,” she gestured between them—“is _much_ more fun for me. So I can do _this_ song and dance all day long.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, as if she suddenly saw something in his face that made her change her tone, there was a note of surprise in her voice and of a fledging fear, “Unless, of course, you got a song that’ll change the tempo?”

Duke wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it before, but he remembered it now. He turned from her and walked over to the couch. He rooted around between the cushions and the back of the couch until he found the book that had fallen on his foot last night. He flicked the cover of _The Child of Ruin_ a couple of times with the middle finger of his right hand as he turned to her and walked back to the counter, mumbling to himself, “Yeah I got a fuckin’ _song_ for ya.”

He all but tossed the book onto the counter so it slid to a stop in front of her. He didn’t miss the way her eyes widened, or how she stepped back against the bookcase as it slid across the counter to her. He pointed to the book, “You could start by explaining that.”

“Where did you get that?” She asked angrily, glaring from the book to him.

“Oh, what, have I finally found the one thing you _don’t_ know about?” Duke asked, hardly containing his smugness, “Stop the fuckin’ presses.”

“Duke.” She said, a warning clear in her tone but Duke hardly cared.

“No.” Duke cut her off, even waving his hand to try to physically stop her from saying anything more, “No, you don’t get to ‘Duke’ me. I’ve been here for a little over twelve hours and all you’ve done since I’ve walked into your store is flaunt over me that you know more about what’s going on with Jennifer than—than _anyone_.”

He picked the book up from the counter and noted how Adelaide seemed to relax and move the slightest bit closer towards the counter again as the book moved away from her. He gestured with the book, “Now this fuckin’ book landed on _my_ foot last night and all that’s in here is Jennifer’s life and I want—no, I _demand_ to know what this is and _why_ you seem so afraid of it.”

His voice had risen as he spoke, but he managed to catch himself before he was full on yelling. Adelaide had crossed her arms again, and it was different from the self-assured stance she’d taken a moment before; it was defensive, as if Duke had found a weak point in her shielding and had gotten too close to plunging his hand into it. She kept her eyes trained on the book as if it was the one who’d insulted her, who’d challenged her, who’d _threatened_ her.

Duke decided to move the book the slightest bit closer to her—partially as an experiment and partially to poke the bear that’d been growling at him since he’d walked into her store—and in response to it, she moved the exact same distance back as he’d moved it towards her.

“Adelaide—,” Duke started to say, smirking despite himself.

“You can’t bring that book any closer to me than it is right now.” She said quickly, still trying to fold herself up to defend herself, but her voice was ice cold, “In fact you cannot let that book _touch_ me. Ever.”

“What the fuck—,” Duke started again.

“It fell on your foot, right? You’ve touched it? You’ve _read_ it?” Adelaide asked just as quickly as before. Duke narrowed his eyes at her but nodded his head. Adelaide nodded back, mostly automatically and barely registering Duke’s admission.

She continued, but it was almost as if she were talking to herself more than she was talking to him, as she stared absently at a spot on the counter just to her right, “Then I can’t touch it. If I had gotten my hands on it _first_ , if I had made _sure_ , just like with _Unstake My Heart_ —hell if I’d even _known_ —this wouldn’t be… _damn_ this shop and who it chooses.”

“You got something to share with the class, here, Adelaide?” Duke remarked condescendingly.

Adelaide’s gaze immediately snapped from the spot on the counter to his eyes at the sound of his voice. Her eyes narrowed at him, and he could see that she’d gone from being on defense to offense and that she was sharpening what she had to say to him to a fine point, but then something shattered through all of that.

Little John was growling.

Adelaide’s confusion cut through her anger at Duke and her gaze scanned the shop for a moment before her eyes jumped to the psych section and the horror that came into her eyes made whatever anger and distrust Duke had for Adelaide freeze in place. He had only just began to turn towards it when Adelaide took off running passed him, screaming, “Jennifer!”

That was all he needed to know to follow after her.

Even though Duke’s legs were longer, Adelaide was faster and made it to the psych section before him. He heard her say something, though he couldn’t be sure what. As soon as she’d finished whatever she’d said, the smell of ozone filled his nostrils, and there was a charge to the air that made his hair stand on end. By the time he rounded the corner into the psych section, he didn’t see what had Adelaide so panicked, but he didn’t care.

All he saw was Jennifer.

Jennifer, who was crumbled on the floor of in front of a bookcase as Adelaide cradled her head and spoke quietly to her as she rocked her, and who—dammit—looked so _small_ again.

It was the lighthouse all over again.

And he couldn’t take it.

He couldn’t do this.

Not again.

“It’s okay, Jen, it’s gone.” Adelaide was whispering to Jennifer, her voice quivering as she rocked her, “I sent it away. I know how to fight the monsters, remember?”

Little John kept his gaze at the bookcase across from where Adelaide and Jennifer were on the floor, every muscle in his frame tensed and poised as if he were ready to strike if given the proper command. Adelaide smoothed some of Jennifer’s hair out of her face as her voice turned a little desperate, “You just need to wake up. Wake up and see that it’s gone. C’mon, Jen, _please_.”

Whatever had happened, whatever “it” was that Adelaide had “sent away,” it had rendered Jennifer unconscious and Duke _refused_ to let her out of his arms or sight again.

“Get away from her.” Duke growled at her, earning a responding growl from Little John who, at Duke’s voice, now directed his teeth and growl at Adelaide. That was command enough for him.

Adelaide looked up at him and Little John, her eyes bright with confusion and tears, “What?”

“I said,” he repeated through clenched teeth, barely containing his anger as he approached Jennifer, Little John staying in his spot with a steady growl coming from him, “Get. Away from her.”

Adelaide stared back at him in obvious shock, before she looked back at Jennifer. It was as if she were debating her next action, or as if she were as equally as reluctant as Duke to let Jennifer go for any reason. It didn’t really matter to Duke, though, if it was a fight Adelaide wanted for Jennifer, he was more than ready and willing to do just that. Finally, having reaching some sort of resolution in herself, Adelaide moved away slightly from Jennifer and Duke quickly wrapped one arm around her shoulders and his other under her knees to pull her away from Adelaide. He pulled Jennifer close to him, as he stayed crouched across from Adelaide, not ready to lift her yet as he looked her over. She was terrifyingly limp and pale, like she’d been under the lighthouse, and her breathing was shallow—but at least she was breathing. He moved his hand from under her legs to cradle her cheek in his palm, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone, and felt familiar ice slowly forming around his heart as he stared down at her.

 _Not again_.

He trailed his fingers down her neck and pressed his middle and forefinger gently against her throat to feel for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. At that realization, Duke let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and kissed Jennifer’s forehead in relief.

Adelaide climbed to her feet quickly across from Duke, scrubbing at her face and steeling herself again, “Duke, I know what you’re thinking, but you _can’t_ —,”

“No.” Duke yelled back at her, rising to his feet with Jennifer cradled in his arms, “You don’t _get_ to tell me what I _can_ and _can’t_ do.”

Little John barked at Adelaide, as if he were trying to back up what Duke was saying next to him.

“ _Duke_ —,” Adelaide yelled, her anger and fight coming back to her and causing her voice to rise so that it matched his. It came out startlingly similar to a bark, and prompted Little John to growl again in response.

“Momma, what’s going on?” a quiet voiced asked nervously, interrupting the shouting match that was about to ensue.

Adelaide whipped around to see Brielle standing next to the far bookcase, looking from her mother to her Aunt’s passed out form in Duke’s arms with fear in her eyes, until she looked back to her mother for answers.

“Just stay right there, baby,” Adelaide said quickly to Brielle, holding her shaking hand up to stay Brielle from coming any closer to the scene behind her. She turned quickly back to address Duke, but he was already rounding the corner at the end of the section to head towards the front of the shop, and hopefully just to the couch to lay Jennifer down. Little John followed closely behind him, whining quietly as he kept his head tilted up towards Jennifer.

Adelaide made to call after Duke, to stop him, to try to get him to swear that he wasn’t going to run from the shop to his truck with Jennifer and then take her to the Rouge so that she’d never see either of them again. When she didn’t hear the bells on the door jingle open or close, she let out a breath that was half relief and half exasperation, and turned back to Brielle. She was gripping the corner of the bookcase tightly and nervously, her green eyes wide as she looked up at her mother.

Adelaide closed the distance between them and crouched in front of Brielle. She touched her face and tucked her hair behind her ears, as she looked Brielle over, anxiously checking to make sure that she wasn’t hurt in any way. She had no real reason to be fearful for Brielle, but seeing Jennifer like that had stirred up familial memories that she’d have preferred stayed locked away.

“Is Auntie Jen okay?” Brielle asked before Adelaide could say something to her.

Adelaide let out a shaky breath and tried to smile at Brielle as she held her face in her hands, “Yeah, Sweetness, she’s gonna be okay.”

“What happened?” Adelaide moved her hands from Brielle’s face down her arms until she was holding Brielle’s hands in hers.

“You know how Auntie Jen’s really, _really_ special?” Brielle nodded, “And you know how our job is to make sure that Auntie Jen can still _be_ really, really special?” Again, Brielle nodded, “Well those Bad People, those people that Mr. Stretch works for, are trying to take Auntie Jen away and they’re being very… _intrusive_ about it. That means that they’re coming into our home to try to take Auntie Jen to send a message to me that they aren’t afraid of me or what I can do.”

Brielle gripped her hands tightly, “But you won’t let them, right? You won’t let them take Auntie Jen?”

Adelaide smiled wearily at her, “No, baby, I won’t let them take Auntie Jen.”

Brielle nodded and smiled at her mother, “Good. I want to keep Auntie Jen.”

As the words left her daughter’s mouth, Adelaide felt a sick horror root itself in her stomach and she grabbed her daughter’s shoulders tightly, as she said harshly, “Brielle Cadence Bouquin-Rousseau, don’t you _ever_ say that. Do you hear me? That is _not_ —she is not ours to _keep_. This is not about _us_ , or what we _want_ , and the _second_ you start thinking that or acting like it is, then you disrupt the very, _very_ delicate balance of this shop and our purpose, do you understand me?”

“Momma you’re _hurting_ me,” Brielle said weakly, her voice constricted in fear.

Adelaide’s heart broke but she kept her voice and her grip firm—this was a lesson that Brielle needed to learn and she needed to learn it as soon as she could, “Do you _understand_ me, Brielle?”

Brielle nodded, her eyes starting to glisten with tears, “I understand.”

Adelaide looked into her eyes for a moment longer, the eyes that were so similar to her own and that were soon to be her daughter’s curse, before finally releasing her grip on her shoulders. Brielle immediately pulled away from her and rubbed at her upper arms. She wouldn’t look at Adelaide and she didn’t blame her—she didn’t really want to look at herself either.

Regret wound itself around her heart and constricted her throat as tears stung her eyes, “I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

Adelaide reached out to touch Brielle’s cheek, but Brielle only nodded and headed back towards the staircase to the loft, dodging her mother’s hand as she went.


	8. Chapter 8

In all honesty, Duke had only one thought on his mind as he headed back to the main floor of the shop: Get Jennifer away from here. He tried to formulate a plan for how he could get Jennifer out of the shop, to his truck, to the Rouge, and then—well who the fuck cares _where_ they went from there, just so long as they got _away_. But as he looked down at her eerily tranquil face, he knew that she wouldn’t want to leave before she had answers.

And he knew that she _deserved_ answers.

And besides, she’d only just started to trust him; he refused to do anything that would potentially ruin that trust. Like kidnapping her from her cousin’s store while she’s unconscious. That probably wouldn’t earn him any brownie points.

Little John whined quietly up at Duke, pulling him out of his thoughts, and sat by the couch, almost purposefully looking from Duke to the couch and back. Duke sighed and sat carefully on the couch, still holding Jennifer against him and trying not to jostle her too much.

Fine.

So no kidnapping.

But hopefully she wouldn’t be averse to waking up in his arms. He straightened her legs out carefully before he brought his arm that had been under her legs up to gently pat at her face to wake her up.

He tucked some of her still damp hair behind her ear and traced along her jaw, and whispered to her, “Jennifer?”

She didn’t move, but it seemed, though he couldn’t be sure, that some of the color came back to her face.

He sighed and shifted her closer against him prompting a small sound from her. He froze, watching her hopefully. When nothing more happened, he deflated slightly before he gently cradled her face in his palm and pressed his forehead against hers, “C’mon, Jen, _please_. Wake up. I can’t… _Please_. Just wake up.”

Little John leaned against the couch and rested his head on Jennifer’s stomach as he let out a brief, quiet cry. Duke sighed back, lifting his head from Jennifer’s, “I know, bud. I’m worried about her too.”

Little John only kept his eyes on Jennifer, snuffling the slightest bit closer to her as Duke gently rocked her.

The Universe must’ve thought it was a fucking _riot_ to give Jennifer back to him with no memory of him, only to then have her—within twenty-four hours of them reaching some sort of groove or understanding about their relationship—pass out under mysterious circumstances in the shop of a woman who was starting to seem more and more like an enemy and less and less like a friend.

Ha ha, Universe.

Good one.

Don’t quit your day job.

He stared at Jennifer for another moment before he carefully ran his fingers through her hair until he cradled the back of her head. The color was coming back to her face now, much more slowly than he would’ve preferred, and her breathing was slowly becoming stronger. But the sick dread that had settled in his stomach when he had rounded that corner and had seen her collapsed on the floor refused to lessen in any way. At a loss for what else to do, he pecked a kiss on her forehead, pulling back quickly and watching her nervously, as if she’d wake up and push him away from her in confusion. If kidnapping was out of the question, then probably so was kissing her when she was unconscious. Her words from their first encounter still rang in his head.

_I’ve never seen you before in my life._

When she didn’t show any sort of change, or at the very least like she wasn’t going to wake up and push him away, Duke carefully kissed along her cheek to her ear and whispered to her, “I didn’t find you just to lose you again, Jennifer Mason.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, not that he saw, and he pulled her closer still to him and said, “Come back to me, Jen.”

At that, she finally stirred in his arms, prompting Duke to move back and watch her carefully, as she slowly started to open her eyes. Little John immediately stood from his spot, tail wagging so fast that it blurred behind him, and began to whine excitedly at Jennifer. Duke let out a short breath of a laugh as her eyes searched out his face. They cleared up gradually from their fog as her eyes opened a bit wider and she smiled at him sleepily, “Hey. I know you.”

He let out another relieved laugh, nodding at her, “Yeah, you do.”

Confusion flashed across her face briefly only to be replaced by a look of pain as she rubbed her forehead. She started to try to sit up and to get out of his arms, but Duke tightened his grip on her instinctively. She looked at him in new confusion, about to say something, but before he could think to stop himself, he leaned down and kissed her, properly and fully this time. His hand trailed from in her hair to down her neck, her own hand rising to rest over his there.

She let a small noise of surprise when his lips first met hers, and for a moment he thought she was going to pull away from him, but she only opened her mouth further, brushing her tongue against his in invitation and expectation, and moving her hands up to his neck and then into his hair to pull him further into the kiss.

This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined their first reunited kiss would go. In fact, if he was being honest, if he’d had his way, the first time he saw her two days ago, when he’d hugged her, when he’d found her again, _that’s_ when he should’ve kissed her. If he’d had a choice, it would’ve been then that he’d gathered her in his arms and left on the Rouge. Or something later, after she’d gotten more of her memories back, looking at him with those beautiful, luminous brown eyes and she’d smile with that same recognition that he saw in her eyes now and say, “I _know_ you.”

God and _mean_ it.

But _this_? This was fine—more than fine. This was probably more than he deserved from her, but he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell her or to stop this from happening.

He smiled through the continuing kiss and responded eagerly to her, kissing her back with every ounce of want, need, desperation, elation—every ounce of _everything_ he’d wanted to give to her since he lost her. She tasted like sunlight, a calm day at sea, and just everything good and wonderful in the world that he’d missed since he thought she died.

Jennifer let out a small moan as she ran her fingers through his hair to pull him closer to her, and tried to kiss him back with just as much as he was kissing her with, shifting slightly higher against him and trying to pull him further down all at the same time. This hadn’t been how Jennifer had thought their first kiss would go. After all, what girl imagines her first kiss with a guy being right after she’d been unconscious? Well, maybe Sleeping Beauty, but this wasn’t that kind of story—at least, she really hoped not. What she _had_ hoped for, was that they’re first kiss would’ve been more…romantic? More planned? She didn’t know, but she worried that by letting her mind wonder, she wasn’t meeting him with what he was giving her.

She felt him smile against her lips and smiled back, trying to focus on the kiss and not what else it could or couldn’t mean to him or to her. He tasted like the ocean, an early morning before a road trip, and every adventure she’d ever wanted to go on but was too afraid to ever actually do.

Until now.

“I’d say ‘get a room’ but I think I remember pointing out that you do, in fact, have a room to do that in,” a familiar voice said flatly from further in the shop. Jennifer pulled out of the kiss, blushing and giggling at her cousin’s comment, moving her hands down to rest against Duke’s chest. She bit her lip and looked at her hands on his chest before looking back up at him. Duke’s eyes were still half-lidded as he looked down at her and let out a quiet sound of objection at her pulling out of the kiss and she reached up to rest her thumb against his bottom lip and smiled up at him. She couldn’t think of what to say to him but that didn’t seem to matter to him as his eyes kept flickering from her eyes back to her mouth hungrily. She wondered if his eyes were always this soft of a brown or if maybe this was something special.

If _she_ was something special.

She almost thought that she’d seen them looking at her like this before—when she was scared.

_“You’re gonna be with me, right?”_

_“The whole time.”_

She would have pushed on that more, but all of her was still reeling from the kiss—who the hell had replaced her bones with Jell-O?—and maybe a little bit from the very recent regaining of her conscious, so she opted, instead, to just sit up a bit straighter like she’d originally planned. She smiled to herself when she realized that the headache she’d initially had when she’d first woken up was gone. Before she completely left, she felt brave enough to give him a quick, decidedly more chaste, peck on the lips before she sat up the rest of the way on the couch and out of his arms, mumbling to herself, “God, that was _worth_ the wait.”

Duke chuckled briefly at her comment before he realized what she was doing and reached up to pull her back, however gently, “Easy there, Jennifer, you were _unconscious_ a minute ago.”

She waved him away and started to climb to her feet, Little John staying close to her as well and taking up his whining again as his brow furrowed further in concern. She scratched Little John’s head in passing, as she commented, walking towards the kitchenette, “Oh, I’m fine; it was probably just from, uh, low blood sugar. Yeah. Since all I’m running on is coffee—which would be fine if I were, like, twenty-one again but anyway. I probably just need, like, a bagel. Or something. I’m fine.”

“ _No_.” Duke said earnestly, climbing to his feet after her to stand in front of her and block her from the kitchen, choosing not to indicate that he knew she was lying. He was trying to keep his stance casual as he stood in front of her, so that he didn’t impose himself over her—he was worried about her and didn’t want her to shut him out because she felt threatened by him. Little John had rushed passed Jennifer once she moved and stood next to Duke, also blocking the way as if he were trying to provide a united front against the bad idea that was Jennifer moving around right now.

Duke gestured emphatically at her, “ _Jennifer_ you—you need a _hospital_ , or a doctor, or _someone_ to—,”

“Pass.” Jennifer interrupted, stepping around him expertly—as if she remembered that she’d done it hundreds of times before—and Little John to continue to the kitchen, and purposefully avoided his gaze.

“ _What_?” Duke asked in disbelief, turning with her and fighting his instinct to grab her arm and stop her—he couldn’t guarantee that he’d be enough in check of his strength to not hurt her on accident. They’d only just gotten back to a workable place; he didn’t want her to shut him out. Little John turned with him, prompting Duke to glance at him in confusion at how in tune Little John was so far with his concern for Jennifer before focusing back on her.

She paused just before she went into the kitchenette, and turned back to him, trying to smile jokingly at him as she gestured with her words, “Yeah, see after the whole—,” she raised her hands to mime air quotes at him, “—‘sailing accident’ thing, I haven’t been really big on hospitals. So. Pass.”

Adelaide just chuckled in response, leaning her shoulder against one of the bookcases that enclosed the area where the couch was, as Jennifer went the rest of the way into the kitchen with Little John close behind her. Jennifer shot her a smirk before she disappeared into the kitchenette. The moment the curtain to the kitchenette rattled back into place, Duke snapped around to Adelaide, stalking up to her to get into her space, and imposed his whole height over her. He didn’t care if _Adelaide_ was afraid of him—in fact, right now, he’d prefer it to her thinking they could be friends. Adelaide simply arched an eyebrow at him as he stood in front of her; annoyingly unimpressed by him or the threat he was trying to pose.

Duke opened his mouth to speak but Adelaide beat him to it, speaking in a low voice, “Save it. You don’t scare me.”

Duke clenched his jaw in agitation at that. It wasn’t often that he _wanted_ someone to be afraid of him but when he _did_ , it wasn’t often that the other person didn’t respond to him.

Adelaide rolled her shoulders again, trying to square herself to his glare as if she was certain he was going to physically attack her, “I don’t care how pissed you are at me right now, in a few minutes, Holly’s going to be here to take Jennifer for the day, and then I will give you all the answers you want—about me, about what I am, about what’s been going on with Jennifer— _everything_.”

“Oh, so you’re just going to send her away and keep her in the dark? That’s just fucking _great_.” He could see her steeling herself to him and to his accusations, withdrawing into herself, but he wouldn’t let her get away yet, “And just what the _fuck_ makes you think that I’m going to let Jennifer out of my sight after… _whatever_ the fuck it was that just happened, happened? She was _unconscious_ and you’re acting like _nothing_ happened.” Duke all but growled at her, matching Adelaide’s pitch, “Do you really _think_ —,”

“I don’t _think_ anything,” She snarled back quickly, “I _know_. You don’t want to lie to Jennifer, right? You promised her that you wouldn’t lie to her, you don’t want to break that promise to her, and more than _anything_ you want to give her answers; that’s why you didn’t leave with her when you very easily could’ve. Right?”

Duke just glared down at her, wishing that she was even half as afraid of him as his experience and knowledge of himself told him she should be, and more than a little aggravated that she seemed to know _exactly_ what’s been happening here, as she continued, “Do _not_ mistake my intentions, Duke. I may seem callous but—,”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about your intentions!” He snapped, getting dangerously close to yelling again and all but snarling at her, “All I care about is—,”

“Jennifer?” Adelaide interrupted, her own venom coming back through as she took a step towards him to try to impose herself over him. She was at least half a foot shorter than him, and was maybe a buck-fifty soaking wet, but there was a…a _presence_ to her that almost made Duke want to back down from her. But, then again, if he actually did back down every time he thought he should, he wouldn’t have gotten as far in his life as he had.

Adelaide continued, keeping her arms crossed in front of her, “That’s right. That’s _all_ you care about. So go tell that person you care about so goddamn much that the person she thinks is her cousin—who’s been in her life for longer than you have as far as her memories are concerned, who is the _only_ family she has _left_ in this world—you go tell her that she’s been lying to her with no facts to support it. And what facts you _do_ have, are from a small town cop friend you have whom you asked to dig into me—violating not only _my_ trust but _Jennifer’s_ as well. Go ahead. See how well that goes for you.”

They glared at each other for a moment longer, Adelaide’s challenge sitting so heavily between them, it could’ve been it’s own third party in their argument. Duke tried to keep his resolve firm and to not be the first one to look away. Unfortunately, Adelaide was right. So far, all he had were half-formed hunches and some shady occurrences that his “small town cop friend” had pulled up that could mean anything or probably, and more likely for the time being, nothing.

So there was mention of an Adelaide with this life in over a dozen stories—aren’t there disclaimers at the end of movies about something like this? That didn’t mean that that had anything to do with _this_ Adelaide, or this situation. He didn’t have anything.

“That’s what I thought.” Adelaide finally said, breaking their silence. She didn’t sound self-satisfied though, she just sounded—and looked—tired suddenly. Tired, and very old, “Now, _I_ _am_ in a position _to_ lie to her, so _let_ me. Let me continue the lie. Just for a little while longer. I’ll deal with the fallout of it—I’ve been preparing for it for weeks now. But until then I suggest that you _stow_. Your _shit_. And put on a goddamn _happy_ face until Holly gets here and takes Jennifer.”

“What about Jennifer?” Jennifer asked from the counter, a toasted bagel covered in cream cheese in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. She set both of them on the counter and hopped onto the stool behind the counter, crossing her legs once she was settled. Little John sat next to her, keeping his eyes on her but his ears perked back towards Duke and Adelaide. Jennifer scratched Little John on the head, trying to smile reassuringly at him as she took a bite out of her bagel and looked back at them expectantly.

Duke turned, ready to say…well he wasn’t sure _what_ he was going to say but he sure as hell was ready to say it, when Adelaide, once again, spoke before him, “Nothing, just that Holly called me while you were in the shower and wanted to know if you were up to going shopping with her today. I told her that you were. She’ll be here in a few minutes to pick you up.”

As Adelaide spoke, Jennifer’s brow began to furrow with confusion until she started to pat herself down, as if she were looking for something.

Adelaide gave her a confused look, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out what about me changed to indicate that I’m suddenly _not_ an adult capable of making my own decisions.” Jennifer stated matter-of-factly, before briefly grabbing at her breasts, “Alright, well, breasts are still developed so it’s not _that_ …”

“Jennifer,” Adelaide chuckled in response, rolling her eyes as Duke tried so hard _not_ to look at Jennifer grabbing her own chest that Adelaide was worried that his neck would snap.

“ _Adelaide_ ,” Jennifer responded, exaggerating her cousin’s tone as she smiled back at her, “I mean, _honestly_ , Della; doesn’t that seem like something, I don’t know, that _I_ should’ve been informed of? Or, at the very least, _asked_ about first?”

Duke looked smugly at Adelaide, waiting for her to explain the situation to Jennifer and eager to see her flounder in whatever lie she tried to tell.

Adelaide tried to smile back at Jennifer, pointedly trying to keep Duke’s smug smile from causing her to misstep, “Well, she _did_ try to call you first, but I think you were—,” she finally glanced purposefully at Duke, “— _preoccupied_ with other things.”

Duke glared back at her and Jennifer blushed as she tore another bite off her bagel, trying to gesture dismissively, “Well, regardless, I think that that should’ve been something I was _asked_ about before you just arranged my play dates for me like toddler.”

“Yes, because your most recent independent selection of dates has just been _winning_ friends all across the board.” Adelaide commented, her smile suddenly tight and her pleasantry sounding strained.

Little John turned to look at Adelaide now, the hair on his back raising and a low growl rumbling out of him. Jennifer gave Adelaide a confused and rather startled look, “Adelaide—,”

“And just _when_ would you’ve liked me to _ask_ you about it?” Adelaide asked, a dangerous glint in her eyes, as she gestured emphatically, “Before or _after_ you lost consciousness?”

Jennifer looked at her cousin as if she’d been stricken, and turned away from the two of them so that her front faced the counter. Little John kept his own glare steady on Adelaide as he shifted closer to Jennifer, who seemed to suddenly be very interested in her bagel and her orange juice. Duke’s own glare only intensified as he looked down at Adelaide. The regret was immediate on Adelaide’s face as she looked at Jennifer, and Duke could see that she wanted to take a step to her, to comfort her, but almost as soon as he saw it, it was gone.

She steeled herself, as if she were preparing herself for something more, and rubbed her forehead as she sighed—though none of the tension left her body as she did, “Sorry. I’m _sorry_ , Jen. That was…that was out of line.”

Jennifer just nodded at her vaguely, taking a drink from her orange juice, as Adelaide ran her hand over the buzzed part of her head, mumbling to herself, “Two for two. Fuckin’ _great_ track record today, Della.”

Duke’s sympathy for Adelaide was well beyond obliterated by this point, which he hoped was clear in the parting glare he shot at her before he headed towards Jennifer to check on her.

Adelaide mumbled a bit more loudly so the room heard her, “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go check on Brielle. Maybe get ready for the day. You two…aren’t even listening to me anymore. Right. Later.”

Adelaide left them alone, but she was right; neither of them was really paying attention to her anymore. Duke was focusing on Jennifer, and how she was trying to keep her brave face on, even as chewed on the corner of her lip and had basically ripped her bagel to pieces in the few seconds it took for him to cross the shop to her. Her fingers were covered in the cream cheese she had spread on her bagel, but whatever was happening in her mind was intense enough for her not to care. He wasn’t even sure if she knew she was doing it, especially since she’d started to then tear apart the bigger pieces that she’d ripped up. Little John had moved to the side once Adelaide was gone, giving Jennifer some space but staying close to her and keeping his eyes trained towards the back of the shop in the direction that Adelaide went.

It was similar to the space cushion Duke often gave to her, once he thought about it.

Duke scratched Little John’s head as he passed, earning an appreciative grunt from the dog as he did. He stood next to her, leaning his hip against the counter as he reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Her hair, having been left to dry on it’s own, actually had a lot of curl to it. He’d forgotten just how _much_ it had until he saw it like this. It was decidedly longer, too, even with the curl. He wondered if she remembered when he’d told her that he loved the curl of her hair, and if that was why it was longer.

 _Probably not_ , he thought, but it was nice to think about.

She closed her eyes at his touch, her hands stilling in their destruction of the bagel, and turned her head with his hand, sighing as she did. She stayed that way for a moment, her eyes still closed, before she finally looked at him, a tired smile on her face as he kissed her forehead. She immediately relaxed at his touch, the tension that had sprung up from Adelaide’s comments easing away slightly as her smile briefly reached her eyes as she looked at him. But just as quickly as it was there, it was back to being a smile for his benefit.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, smiling back at her, before gently rasping, “Hey.”

“Hey.” She repeated back, hoping to widen her smile as she looked up at him but it was even shorter than the first one. The exchange with her cousin was obviously still on her mind, but he could see that there was something else that was bothering her too.

He ran his fingers through her hair lightly, “You alright, Short Stack?”

She sighed and moved like she wanted to rub her face with her hands. Thankfully, she caught herself before she smeared cream cheese all over her face, and used a paper towel from under the counter to clean her fingers. She shrugged as she finally answered his question, balling up the paper towel and tossing it on to the counter, “I’m…I mean…I’m alive?”

He smiled back at her, rubbing her shoulder gently, “Gave me a hell of a scare though.”

He leaned forward and kissed her head again, closing his eyes as he did, as if to convince himself that she was real. Something about this moment brought back up the memory from the night before— _He does this when he’s scared_.

When he pulled away, she looked up at him with soft eyes even as she chuckled lightly at him, “Oh no, did I really? I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head at her as his hand trailed down her back, “Something tells me that you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

Jennifer smiled back at him before looking back down at her now thoroughly destroyed bagel, her expression shifting.

“Didn’t have much of a choice.” She mumbled to herself.

He didn’t know the half of it. Hell, _she_ didn’t even completely understand it. What she did understand, was that she had heard a voice—or maybe it was _voices_ that she heard, it was hard to remember that clearly—that had been so alien yet so familiar to her in her mind, as her body did something against her will, like she was sitting back seat in her own mind.

_Do you remember everything that Puppet Duke did?_

She remembered reaching for a doorknob, hearing Adelaide’s voice, the feeling of the air around her being electrified, and the smell of ozone suddenly filling her nose—but then nothing.

Well, not _nothing_. There had been _something_ in the darkness that followed trying to open the door—something that made her head feel like something was going to burst straight out of her skull, something that pulled at her, something that scared her—but whatever it had been had disappeared as soon as she’d come to.

She thought that maybe she remembered the hallway of doors Adelaide had asked her to imagine during her pseudo-hypnosis, but with all the doors thrown open, with all the voices of her memories screaming at her. There had been something—someone?—waiting at the end the hallway, maybe even waiting for her. When she tried to think about it, to get the overall vision to be clear, though, the pain came back full force.

Duke rubbed her back again, trying to bring her back to him and out of her mind, “You okay?”

She just nodded back, still not looking at him yet and staring distantly at the destroyed pieces of her bagel.

“You wanna tell me what happened back there?” Duke asked carefully. There was something she wasn’t quite ready to tell him yet—he could tell from how pointedly she was _not_ looking at him—and he wanted to continue to give her the space she needed to talk to him.

She continued to not answer. Instead, she hopped off the stool, a determined set in her jaw, and headed back towards the Psychology section, grabbing his hand as she went. Little John followed closely behind, a quizzical look on his face that Duke was sure mirrored his own.

If a dog’s face _could_ be quizzical, that is.

Her stride stayed purposeful until they came back to the section. She hesitated at the start of it, staring intently at the wall opposite them for a moment. The smell of ozone still hung in the air, but it was much less pronounced than it had been. There was still some static in the air that made the hairs on Jennifer’s arms stand on end, but she couldn’t be sure if that wasn’t because she was suddenly afraid to be back here again. Duke turned to her, wanting to ask her what was going on, but she was squeezing his hand so tightly that he knew that she probably wouldn’t hear him anyway. Finally, she let his hand go and walked towards the bookcase that she’d been staring at so intently. He followed after her for a few steps, trying not to hover, but staying close in case she needed something from him. Or, Gods save him, in case she looked like she was going to pass out again.

He leaned against one of the bookcases, in continued feigned nonchalance that was more for his benefit than for hers, and watched Jennifer carefully as she walked towards the bookcase and continued to study it. Little John sat next to him, apparently having the same thought as him to give Jennifer space. Duke glanced at Little John, only to see that Little John was already looking up at him, before he shrugged at the dog. Little John just sighed back, as if he were agreeing with whatever sentiment it was that Duke was sharing with him, and went back to watching Jennifer.

Jennifer wasn’t sure what she expected. After all, the door had _appeared_ magically so it was only logical (if that word could even still be applied to her life anymore) that it would _disappear_ magically too. She tentatively reached a hand out to tap one of the shelves on the bookcase, pulling her hand back quickly, partially afraid that it would disappear as well. When it didn’t, and seemed to still be there, she ventured to touch the books that sat on the shelf. She ran her fingers over the top of them, pulling out one and flipping through it to make sure that they were real. Or, at the very least, that they weren’t just a bunch of bound blank pages on the shelf, as well as being about the subject that they were sorted into.

Old habits.

Because really, very few people understand how aggravating it can be to find a book’s been misplaced—not that that really matters at the moment but—

She shook her head to stop that train of thought. She was just trying to distract herself from what she was doing and this didn’t feel like something that she should be distracting herself from.

When she was satisfied with the contents of the book, she set it back in its spot, sighing as she did, and rested her hand on the shelf—now very satisfied that the self and it’s contents were real, or real enough, and not going anywhere—as she glanced up the shelves to the top of the case.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to see at the top of the case—a gargoyle? An answer? If the answers were as close as the top of a bookcase, then all of this would’ve been fixed days ago.

“What’re you thinking?” Duke asked from behind her.

She looked back at him briefly before looking back at the bookcase, “I don’t really—I mean—Would it—you wouldn’t happen to know if…if you saw a _door_ here, when you found me?”

He gave her a confused look for just a second before she started rambling, “It…it was about—it took up the whole bookcase—,” she gestured with her arms to suggest the size of it, “—and it was dark brown and looked like it was made of oak. It…it looked _old_ with, like, an iron handle and—,”

She stopped suddenly and looked at him, sighed heavily as she seemed to hear what she was saying, “And I sound like I’m out of my mind.”

Duke gave her a reassuring smile even as he thought back to when he rounded the corner and saw Jennifer collapsed on the floor in Adelaide’s arms. He hadn’t really been paying much attention to anything other than Jennifer; the fact that he refused to lose her again consumed his thoughts and limited his perception of what was around them. His tunnel vision had been incredibly limiting; he didn’t remember seeing a door where she now stood. He was fairly confident, however, that he would’ve remembered something as strange as a door in the middle of the section if he’d seen it—or been _meant_ to see it.

He shook his head at her, “No, I didn’t see a door there.”

Jennifer nodded back, biting her bottom lip in thought. Duke added, “But that doesn’t mean there _wasn’t_ a door there.”

At her confused look, he continued, “When I finally got to you, Adelaide was holding your head and she kept saying, ‘I sent it away’ and ‘I know how to fight the monsters’. That, uh, that _mean_ anything to you?”

Jennifer smiled sadly at that, “When we were kids I—well, you know I have a thing with nightmares and all that, but the first time it happened around Adelaide, she just laid down next to me after I had calmed down and had done the whole hot chocolate thing with my dad, and she’d said, ‘The monsters won’t get you if I’m with you. I know how to fight them. I know how to fight the monsters.’”

She let herself get pulled into the memory, trying not to let the fact that the memory seemed faded and fuzzy, like an old, out of focus photograph distract her. It didn’t feel like _hers_ anymore. It didn’t feel like _anything_ , actually. There was no sense of fondness or nostalgia as it played out; when the memory had been about her father and about his helping her after a nightmare, those feelings arose, but the rest with Adelaide just felt…empty. Like looking at someone else’s family photo album.

The memory wasn’t _hers_ anymore.

Her gaze became unfocused as she started at the floor and said quietly, as if she were talking to herself, “It’s weird, at the time, it’d been so comforting. And even a few times growing up, when either of us were scared or panicked, we’d just hug each other, and one of us would just say that to the other and it’d…” the thought ended and a new one cropped up, “But now? Now, I’m worried that she…that _we_ have monsters that maybe neither of us can fight.”

_Not alone anyway._

She brought herself back to the moment, pushing the thoughts that that led to away—because what could that mean? Why did she keep feeling this quiet threat over herself and her life here? Why did her memories of Adelaide suddenly feel faded and empty? What had she seen when she’d passed out? What had been on the other side of that door, real or not? Why had it disappear? _How_ had it disappeared? And what did it have to do with Adelaide? What the hell was _happening_ to her?

She pushed the questions away—nothing had been answered in the two hours since she’d last thought of them, if anything she had _more_ questions, but there was no sense in dwelling on them any more than she already had—as she brought her focus back to the one question she had that Duke could help her suss out and looked at him, “But ‘I sent it away’? What the hell does that mean? And you still seem _very_ calm about all this; your life prepare you for girls who can see magically appearing and disappearing doors?”

He chuckled in response and walked to her. Little John, apparently satisfied that Jennifer was safe, or at the very least that Duke could handle whatever could happen to Jennifer should he leave, stood and headed back to the couch at the front of the store. Duke closed the distance between him and Jennifer, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him, as he answered, “Let’s just say that even though it’s been awhile since I’ve dated Hermione, I’m still pretty familiar with all the things that it comes with.”

At her laugh, his grin only widened as he nuzzled her lightly below her ear before kissing her forehead, “And I mean, hey, we—,”

“All have our stuff?” She smirked back at him, catching on that he was referring to the conversation that she had remembered between them last night, as she reached up to caress his neck lightly. He’d done it again—his familiarity, his eagerness to be with her, pulled her into him, caused her to mold into him, and chased away the other, pressing, fearful thoughts and questions that still clouded and obscured her mind. He was a force she didn’t understand fully, but that she was willing to let guide and pull her any way he wanted. She wondered if he knew he had such a pull on her, or maybe it was meant as a balancer for the effect she had on him—both of them made the other weak but they still trusted each other with that weakness.

She gently guided his head down to her level as she leaned back against the bookcase, pulling him with her, “Right. Like you snoring when you drink red wine.”

He smiled at her. She was doing it again—her humor, her warmth, her very presence was wrapping around him and relaxing him to the point where he was willing to push away how his instincts were telling him to get them out of here. He was more than willing to let her pull him however she wanted.

He kept his eyes trained on her lips as he braced his hands on the shelf on either side of her waist, rasping, “Very loudly.”

“Very loudly.” She nodded, just barely above a whisper, eyes half-lidded before she pulled him the rest of the way down into a kiss.

He kissed her gently, savoring the softness of her lips and the way she tried to raise higher on her toes into the kiss, and pulled her closer to him all at the same time. It was as if that first kiss had opened the floodgates for every repressed urge to pull her close to him, to kiss her anywhere, to _be_ with her; she seemed only too willing to be a recipient of those urges, so he was more than willing to indulge in them. “Fractured familiarity” she’d called it. This didn’t feel fractured to him—if anything, this was the most whole he’d felt in some time.

She was right; this was well worth the wait.

Jennifer moaned lightly into the kiss, as she ran her fingers through his hair, and while she would’ve loved to have stayed like that for longer, she pulled away first—much too soon for Duke’s liking—pressing her forehead against his for a moment, and pulled her lips into her mouth as she looked up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, thinking maybe he had overstepped something without realizing it, and started to pull away from her before she could, “I didn’t—I thought—,”

“What?” She asked, coming back to herself as her hands slid down from his neck to rest against his chest. She studied his face and caught his meaning, tightening her grip on his shirt instinctively, “Oh. Oh! No, that wasn’t—that was _great_.”

He smiled at her as she mumbled, “I’m sorry I’ve just—I’m trying—,”

“I just want you to tell me if I ever overstep something,” Duke interrupted, covering one of her hands with his on his chest.

She let out a small chuckle, “Don’t worry, Duke, if you overstep a boundary, you will be the first person to know.”

He smiled back but could tell there was something more on her mind as he moved his other hand from the bookcase to resting on her waist. He watched her for a moment before she spoke carefully, plucking absently at his tank top with her free hand, “So. I take it that me finding magical doors isn’t really a first?”

He sighed, letting his head fall briefly before standing up straight again to address her directly, “No. Unfortunately, that was part of the reason why…everything that happened to you happened.”

“Because of Haven, right?” she asked, her gaze falling to just the right of him as she started piecing things together in her mind. That was the start of an answer to one of the litany of questions still tugging at her mind—she was important to his hometown because she could find magical doors.

Great.

So what the fuck did that even _mean_?

And what the hell kind of town needed magical doors anyway?

He nodded in response, bringing his other hand from her waist so that he covered both of hers on his chest, “Because of Haven, yeah. But how did you—?”

“Just a feeling.” She smiled briefly up at him, before she sighed, “Is there any chance you’ll tell me all about Haven and what the fuck it has to do with _me_ sometime soon?”

He tilted his head to the side for a moment, as if he were considering it, before a sly smile spread across his face. He moved his hands from over hers on his chest to her neck, tilting her head back slightly, walking them slowly back to the bookcase, and kissed various parts of her face, mumbling between kisses, “What about dinner? Tonight. My place. I’ll cook, we’ll eat, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Duke pulled back slightly to look at her and couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face; her eyes were half-lidded again and her beautiful lips were parted at his touch. She pulled herself back to the present, and to his proposition, to give him a playfully skeptical look, “Your place? I thought you lived on a boat.”

“I do,” he smiled, leaning back down to kiss along her jaw, “I sailed down here, just to look for you.”

Jennifer giggled in response to that, and tried to say something witty back, only to have her breath hitch slightly as he kept kissing—wait did he actually _nip_ at her a little?—along her jaw. She cleared her throat, “And you cook?”

He chuckled as he moved down to her neck, “My culinary skills go _well_ beyond julienning vegetables.”

She giggled again, “That sounds, um, that sounds… _tempting_. But are you sure you’re free?”

He pulled back and gave her a confused look, “What are you talking about?”

She nervously bit her lip, shifting from foot to foot under his hands, “Well it’s just—I saw you in front of the store on your phone, and it looked like you were having a pretty intense talk with whoever that was—and I’m not asking ‘cause if it’s one of those ‘below board’ things then it might be best if I just _don’t_ know—and I mean, I understand if you have to work and that you aren’t, like, _required_ to stay with me and—,”

“I’m free.” He said, interrupting her and tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Her eyebrow quirked up at him, “So that call—?”

“Just a friend of mine checking in.” He answered easily, and a bit quickly. It wasn’t _technically_ a lie, he tried to rationalize to himself, but he couldn’t convince himself of it completely.

The speed of his answer obviously wasn’t lost on Jennifer, if that speculative look meant anything. He tried to give her his best disarming smile and kissed her cheek, “Nothing’s pulling me away from you.”

He paused briefly, considering his statement, before adding, “Besides your cousin. Apparently.”

Jennifer sighed at that, agreeing with his unspoken annoyed sentiment. She was really going to need to talk to Adelaide—first, she’s fine with her going on a date with some guy—an admittedly very attractive guy—she just met who claimed to know her and talking about how she’d been too overbearing and how that was going to change, then, not even twenty-four hours later, Adelaide’s right back to weird over-protection as if she hadn’t said that she knew she was being overbearing. Something was going on with her cousin, and she was going to have to get to the bottom of it eventually. For now, though, she had that attractive stranger who’d claimed to know her in her hands and she wanted to enjoy that.

A wily smile lit across her face as she tugged on his shirt lightly, trying to change the subject back to their flirting—her cousin didn’t get to pull him away from her when she wasn’t even there, “Okay. So we’ll have dinner. You’ll cook, we’ll eat, we’ll talk; and after I get all my answers from you? What’ll we do then?”

“Well,” he sighed, smirking at her and letting her change the subject, “You can stay as long as you want, of course, and I can always bring you back here when you’re ready. So, really, the rest of the evening is up to you.”

She tilted her head slightly, considering it briefly before she wrapped her arms around his waist. She knew what she wanted; what she’d wanted deeply and indescribably since her memories of him first began to emerge, and it was time she finally let him know what that was. Fractured familiarity be damned—she felt good about him, about them, and it was about time she enjoyed a good feeling for all it was worth.

She pushed herself off the bookcase and raised on her toes to pay him in kind for his kisses along her jaw, pecking a few of her own along the stubble of his jaw and down his neck. At his barely contained groan, she grinned against his warm skin, murmuring, “And if I wanted to stay the night?”

He couldn’t—and didn’t even try to—contain the spark that appeared in his eyes, nor the grin that spread across his face at her question, “I think I can make that work.”

Jennifer beamed at him and pulled him down to kiss him properly again. He took a step closer to her, pressing her back against the bookcase and against him. She was a little surprised at herself; she’d never been one to be so immediately physically affectionate with a significant other, let alone someone she’d only really known for a couple of days. But kissing him, being like this with him, felt _right_ ; like coming home after being away for longer than you’d planned or wanted. Home had been far and away for a long time but she finally felt like she was back—if not finally on the familiar roads that led to it. And she wanted to be here, like this, with him, for as long as she could.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the Universe had other plans.

Distantly, Jennifer heard the bells on the front door of the shop _jingle_ , followed by Holly calling out a greeting, “Who’s ready to spend irresponsible amounts of money?”

Jennifer pulled out of the kiss, a bit reluctantly, to laugh at her friend. Duke groaned, moving his hands from her waist to brace himself against the bookcase and caging Jennifer in his arms again, as he rested his head on her shoulder, mumbling mostly to himself, “Once. Just _once_ I’d like to _not_ be interrupted when we do that,”

She lightly ran her fingers through the shorter hair on the back of his head again, chuckling at his complaint. She opened her mouth to call out a response to Holly, only to be cut off as Adelaide walked passed, calling out her own reply, “I don’t know if the irresponsibility has anything to do with amount of money when it comes to you, Hol.”

Adelaide shot them a glance as she passed, “Jen will be out once she and Duke are done… _discussing_ something.”

Jennifer shot her a glare that Adelaide only shrugged at, continuing to the front of the shop and heard her greet Joshua who had apparently accompanied Holly back to the shop. Jennifer turned her head and kissed Duke’s neck, just below his ear and whispered to him, “We should go.”

He sighed and turned his head to look at her speculatively, silently asking if that were necessarily true. She chuckled at him again before popping her shoulder up a bit to prompt him to raise his head off her shoulder. She held his face in her hands for a moment once he raised his head to keep him from letting it fall back to her shoulder and pecked his lips quickly, “I know. But we have tonight for that.”

“Promises, promises,” he grumbled in response.

She arched an eyebrow at him before a mischievous glint lit up her brown eyes. She let her fingers trail down his neck lightly to his chest again as she placed a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat, murmuring, “Now when I have not made good on my promises?”

He groaned and moved to press her back against him and to convince her to show him how she planned on making good on those promises, only to be stopped when he realized she was pushing against his chest—gently, to be sure, but pushing none the less.

“C’mon.” She laughed, patting his chest to get him to move. If she had been conscious of how she was pushing him away, he couldn’t see it on her face. Conscious or otherwise, it was a good reminder to him of how precarious their relationship still was, and how unsure of herself she still was when it came to him.

This was not about him.

He sighed again before finally, and reluctantly, standing up straight and letting her walk passed him. She grabbed his hand, still smiling at him, and led him to the front of the shop where Holly and Adelaide were talking at the counter. Joshua was sitting on the couch, leafing through a magazine noncommittally, and keeping a careful eye on Adelaide with Little John resting his head on the other armrest of the couch, watching the street. Adelaide was wearing a pair of skinny jeans with her combat boots laced up tight around her lower calves and a white t-shirt with a _Wonder Woman_ symbol across the front of it. Her brown hair waved tiredly on her head, and she was wearing her rectangle rim, small glasses.

It was one of her more simplistic outfits and seeing her in it actually made Jennifer a little nervous; Adelaide always dressed a bit more… _extravagantly_ than what she was wearing right now, and only dressed down when something was on her mind. Dressed down like this, her cousin looked… _old_. The “tired, been doing something so long, seen so many heavy things” kind of old that has nothing to do with age, and everything to do with demeanor. She’d seen her like this on the day of Robbie’s and later Desmond’s funerals, and she had hoped that that would’ve been the last time she ever needed to see her cousin looking that old. And even though she was still mad at her for treating her like a child and for the things she said, Jennifer’s heart broke slightly as she looked at Adelaide.

 _Adelaide’s a fighter_ , she thought to herself, squaring her posture slightly to keep her resolve and her anger firm, _Adelaide always knows._

Holly was, of course, impeccably dressed, causing Jennifer to wonder if maybe she had taken over Joshua’s closet at some point—which would explain why he always seemed to only wear the same six shirts every time Jennifer saw him. She was wearing a long, charcoal tunic, with a mint green floral print cardigan over it and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans. Her head scarf was a mint green to match the base color of the cardigan and was done in such a way to allow for her dark, natural hair to come through on top of her head. She was wearing her large lensed sunglasses from yesterday, and her mint green lipstick added even more color to her overall ensemble.

Jennifer grinned at Holly who was already crossing the room to hug her, “Holly, once again, you outshine all of us with your style.”

Little John raised his head from the armrest and kept his eyes on Jennifer as Holly had moved towards her and hugged her. Holly just laughed as she pulled out of the hug to look down at herself, “This? Child, this is thrown together from a box that Joshua’s been holding for me for like a year. I’m just lucky I still fit in all of it. Besides, _you_ look absolutely incredible.”

Jennifer tsked speculatively at Holly who only grinned and blushed back at her. Joshua just chuckled from his spot on the couch, still noncommittally flipping through the magazine in his lap as Little John thumped his tail against the cushion next to him. Holly glanced passed Jennifer to Duke and nodded to him, “Sailor.”

“Sunshine.” He greeted, returning the nod and smirking lightly at her.

Holly chuckled lightly and turned her gaze back to Jennifer, “You ready?”

Jennifer sighed, “Well almost—I would love to brush my hair and teeth and do my makeup first—,”

Adelaide crouched behind the counter, grabbed something from the shelf, and placed Jennifer’s purse on the counter, “Taken care of. I put some of your makeup, some of those little disposable toothbrush things, and a spare hairbrush in there; as well as your wallet, phone, and keys.”

Jennifer shot Adelaide a cold look as she approached the counter and snatched her purse up, “You pack me a lunch too, _Mom_?”

Adelaide’s jaw clenched at Jennifer’s tone, but rather than snap back, she let out a slow breath, conceding, “No but I took the liberty of giving you my credit card. Figured I owed you some fun after the way I’ve been acting.”

Jennifer narrowed her eyes at her, wanting to say something snide in response but she couldn’t think of anything; she just kept her gaze steady on Adelaide. They stared at each other for a very frosty moment before Jennifer finally turned away, tsking again under her breath, and went back to Duke. Holly raised her eyebrows at the all but frozen exchange between Jennifer and Adelaide but held her peace through it. When she caught Jennifer’s eye, Jennifer just shook her head, earning an understanding nod from Holly. Joshua, however, just continued to study his magazine page intently, hoping that no one would notice him or draw him into the conversation—or lack thereof—and growing tension of the room. Little John growled quietly on the couch next to him, his dark eyes still trained on Adelaide.

Jennifer, once she reached him, took Duke’s hand again, feeling a trill rise inside her when he instinctively entwined their fingers, and looked up at him as she said just quietly enough so only he could hear her, “Will you be here? When I get back?”

She couldn’t quite explain why she was so nervous about him not being here when she got back, about him just being gone if she wasn’t with him, but she could feel that it had something to do with how transient her life had felt since she started asking questions about herself and about what had been happening to her.

Thankfully, Duke seemed to understand her anxiety and knew what to do to try to ease it in her. He let go of her hand to hold her face so that she’d tilt her head back enough for him to kiss her. She placed her hands over his, wrapping her fingers around his wrists, rose a little higher in her heels to meet him at his height, and deepened the kiss. He smiled and let out a breath of a chuckle against her lips, prompting her to giggle nervously. When he broke the kiss he just smiled down at her, nuzzling his nose against hers gently. Her eyes were still closed and he didn’t try to not feel ecstatic as he watched her eyes open slowly, all luminous and bright. He pecked another kiss lightly to her lips, whispering, “I’ll be waiting.”

She pulled her lips into her mouth, and smiled up at him, moving her hands from his wrists to rub his forearms briefly.

“C’mon Holly,” she called over her shoulder before turning away and out of his hands towards Holly and the front door of the shop, “that money’s not gonna irresponsibly spend itself.”

“No it is not.” Holly conceded, grinning widely and wrapping her arm around Jennifer’s shoulders, “Joshua’s letting me use his car today, it’s just around back.”

“Please take care of it!” Joshua called after her nervously.

Holly just waved him away as she pushed opened the front door. Jennifer gave Little John’s head a parting scratch, earning an appreciative grunt from him, before following after Holly.

Duke smiled after them until the ringing of the bells on the doors faded away, they disappeared down the street, and all he was left with was Adelaide, the silence, and his questions.

* * *

 

They climbed into Joshua’s tan little four-door sedan, and headed down Hanover Street. Holly made appropriate Big Sister critiques of the car—citing the fast food wrappers on the floor of the backseats, and his poor music tastes as “Little Brother Errors”—as Jennifer surveyed her hair in the mirror that was set into the visor, trying to decide whether brushing it would help or hurt the curl. She scrubbed at her teeth with the little disposable toothbrush and was glad that her mouth was finally clean—she had a brief flash of embarrassment at the thought that she’d kissed Duke with what could only be called “morning breath,” but she tried to comfort herself with the thought that at least he had morning breath too. And, in all honesty, that had been the last thing on her mind at the time.

Holly grinned at Jennifer once she was through making fun of the state of Joshua’s car interior, “Alright, babe, where we headed?”

Jennifer shrugged as she flipped the visor back up, thus getting rid of the mirror for the time being and deciding that until they actually get somewhere there was no point in fussing anymore with her appearance yet, “No idea; I thought you had a plan.”

Holly gave her a confused look, “No, Adelaide called me and said _you_ wanted to go shopping.”

Jennifer met her skepticism with her own, “ _No_ , _you_ called _Adelaide_ and—,”

“I think someone’s _lied_ to us.” Holly said, at first sounding mockingly exasperated, until her face turned serious as if she’d started to piece something together that Jennifer wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know about just yet.

Jennifer let out a disbelieving sigh before mumbling a curse under her breath, and rubbed her forehead, saying, “I don’t know what’s going on with her.”

There was a pause, Holly focusing on the road and Jennifer finding her next words.

“Alright so _first_ ,” She said, emphatically starting to tick things off on her fingers, “when I mention that I’m itching to move out and find my own place again, she tells me that that’s a no-go until I get a fucking _doctor’s_ note. Then, the next day—the next _day_ , Holly—after I tell her about some weirdo hugging me and claiming to know me—I expected her to basically put me on lockdown and what does she do?”

Jennifer turned to Holly to gesture at her and repeat the question, “What does she _do_ , Holly?”

“Jen, you’re disintegrating again—,” Holly tried to interrupt.

“She sets me up on a _date_ with the guy!” Jennifer basically yelled back at her, and either genuinely didn’t hear Holly, or didn’t care about her pointing out that Jennifer was quickly unraveling. It was as if a cork had been popped, and all of Jennifer’s agitation towards her cousin, her situation, her memories, _everything_ had finally reached a head and needed to be let out somewhere. It was just unfortunate that it had to be all over Holly.

Holly could tell that the earlier tension between her and her cousin, coupled with whatever new discoveries Jennifer had made in the last twelve hours about said hugging weirdo, had created a perfect storm of anxiety riddled babbling from her best friend. This was all too similar to the pre-panic attacks that Jennifer used to have after her father died that Holly helped her through. She knew the best thing to do was to listen to her and just keep trying to get through to her to get her to calm down.

Jennifer continued rambling, oblivious of it and her increasing speech, “ _Then_ she spends all of last night talking to him and telling him about our tragic family history like it’s a summarization of a _telenovela_ or some shit and not something that still keeps her up at night like I know it does—,”

“Jen—,” Holly tried to interrupt again, a bit more firmly this time.

“—only to start today by acting spikey and spiteful to him _and_ me!” Jennifer continued, completely unhindered by Holly’s attempted interruption, and unaware that her voice was raising to the point of basically yelling, “Never mind the fact that my entire grip on reality has been not only _questioned_ but essentially _obliterated_ in the last couple of days—let’s throw in a weird acting cousin on top of it—who might not even be my cousin at all!”

“Jennifer!” Holly yelled at her. Jennifer finally stopped talking, only to realize that she hadn’t really taken a breath in all that ranting and that at some point she’d also started yelling. She took a few slow deep breaths to slow and calm herself down. That was not how she wanted to start this day with Holly.

Though, if she were being honest with herself, _nothing_ about how this day had started was how she’d wanted.

Well.

Maybe _one_ thing.

Holly had pulled the car into a parking space by one of the boutiques that was on the other side of the North End, and was now turning towards Jennifer, bringing her hands from being level with her shoulders and lowering them and whispering, “That’s good; breathe, Jennifer. Deep, slow breaths. There you go.”

Jennifer took a few more breaths, trying to get the prickling that’d started behind her eyes to disappear. She smiled weakly at Holly, “Sorry. Sorry, I’m fine now; I’m fine.”

She grabbed her purse from between her feet on the floor of the car and started rummaging through it for the makeup that Adelaide had put there. She flipped down the visor again to use the mirror there. Her face was flushed from her impromptu yelling fit, and her hair was still a mess. She pulled out her brush, deciding that she was just going to try to tame the curl to her hair. As that proved fruitless, she pulled out a hair tie and tried to gather her hair at the base of her skull to just keep it out of the way. There were a few strands that were too short to fit into the hair tie and curled lazily on either side of her face. She sighed at them, trying to blow them up and away from her face, but they stubbornly stayed where they were.

Holly leaned back against the driver side door, giving her an incredulous look as Jennifer started rummaging through her purse for her makeup again, “Right. ‘ _Fine_.’ You’re the literal picture of it.”

Jennifer closed her eyes and sighed as she pulled out her makeup bag, “So maybe I’m not _that_ fine.”

“Really?” Holly asked, a sarcastic tilt edging out her tone as Jennifer fixed her makeup, “’Cause I didn’t get that from the ranting and the yelling and the not breathing.”

Jennifer narrowed her eyes at her, pausing in her work briefly, “I was breathing.”

Holly’s skepticism only increased with that comment, as exemplified with her incredulously widened eyes and slight head bob.

Jennifer sighed again, and finished her makeup. She surveyed her work for a moment more in the mirror before putting her things back in her purse and flipping the visor back up. Holly crossed her arms and watched Jennifer, waiting for her to start talking. After everything was back in her purse and she couldn’t use that as an excuse anymore, Jennifer stared blankly out the window for a moment before saying quietly, “Holly?”

“Yes?” Holly answered, watching Jennifer carefully.

“Hypothetically,” Jennifer paused, chewing on her lip absently. She continued, “what if I weren’t entirely human?”

Holly arched an eyebrow at Jennifer, “Why do you ask?”

Jennifer hesitated for a moment more, unsure of how to verbalize everything that had come to light in the last twelve hours, before finally speaking. She told Holly about the nightmares, about the door appearing and then disappearing in the bookstore, about her losing consciousness, about the voices that called to her and how _familiar_ they had all been, about how when she’d lost consciousness she was sure she _saw_ something—whether it was a vision, or more insight into her own mind was still unclear but she saw whatever it was, she knew that much. And something told her that that _thing_ that she had seen in her whatever-it-was saw her too. And that scared her. After she finished, choosing to keep the feeling that something saw her to herself just a little bit longer for now—it was just too crazy, even given everything else she’d just thrown at Holly—she choked on a mirthless laugh and said, “Well, I guess my question should’ve been, ‘What if I weren’t sane?’ I don’t know why I asked about not being human…maybe that would be easier to handle than not being sane…”

_“You’re the one who keeps saying I’m not crazy—I’m—,”_

She trailed off, the memory coming and going and still missing chunks of it even as it felt more and more like _hers_ , and stared absently into the dashboard. Part of her knew why she’d first asked about being human—something in the voices, in the door, in going back to where the door _should_ have been, whispered in the back of her mind that this had happened before, that this was what she was meant to do, that this was who she was—this was _what_ she was. But everything else about her, everything that made her truly _her_ knew that it wasn’t. Not really. That she didn’t want that to be what she was, that she was…hell she didn’t know _what_ she was, but she knew that those voices thought they did.

And that they were _wrong_.

Holly reached over and took Jennifer’s hand in hers, getting her to look at her for the first time. Holly held her friend’s smaller hand in both of hers and said gravely, “Jennifer. You are not crazy. None of—this is—,”

Holly sighed and rubbed her forehead. She kept her eyes closed for a moment, heavily considering her next words before she finally said, “You’re not the only one having… _difficulty_ with their memory.”

Jennifer stared at her friend, wide eyed, as Holly explained her parallel memory sets. She explained that the memories she had of Adelaide felt like she was looking at someone else’s photo album with the repeated mantra of “Remember this. This is important. Nothing else matters, there is only _this_ ” ringing through her mind every time she thought of them.

She told Jennifer that she remembered—at the same time as a great deal of the memories that pertained to Adelaide—Jennifer going through a time where she thought she had schizophrenia, that Jennifer had Skyped with her one day from a place called Haven where she was looking for information on her birth parents—“A lie,” Holly had said, trying to add some levity to the discussion, “I think. Or at the very least, _part_ of a lie. Either way, apparently my lying lessons _did_ pay off.” Jennifer didn’t think it was funny—and that she had been living on a boat with a man named Duke.

She told her about how they’d talked, not extremely frequently but frequently enough, and how they had lost contact with each other for a little bit, but before it started to worry her, before she could even think that something was wrong, Jennifer had called her, and had mentioned Adelaide or _something_ from her time here, and it was like all these other memories showed up and answered all her questions. Holly tried not to think about how her explanation for what had happened was more or less verbatim for how Adelaide had explained it to her yesterday.

Jennifer sat there in stunned silence for a long moment after Holly had finished, before Holly added gently, “Um. Duke knows about my double memory. And so does Ad—Adelaide _knows._ ”

 _Adelaide_ always _knows._

Jennifer felt like she’d been punched in the gut—or more accurately, like someone had taken a baseball bat and swung it straight into her torso and was now laughing at her—but there was also a quiet degree of complete lack of surprise. About either Duke or Adelaide knowing, really. It made sense. That was what he and Holly were negotiating back at the restaurant the night before; that was the real nature of their relationship to each other. Holly and Adelaide must’ve talked about everything yesterday before the aquarium, after Jennifer and Duke had left. That would explain some of Adelaide’s changes, why she pushed for her to go with Duke—but what else did Adelaide know? And why hadn’t Adelaide told her any of this?

Wasn’t she her cousin?

But was that even true?

Was _anything_ she knew true?

Jennifer let out a brokenhearted laugh, “God of _course_. Of _course_ she knows. She probably— _God_.”

She looked at Holly, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Holly sighed, “I should’ve. I should’ve told you, and I’m sorry. But you were only just starting digging things up in yourself so I was afraid you were gonna shut me out, or think that I was—,” she let out a mirthless chuckle, interrupting herself, “hell I don’t know _what_ you would’ve thought if I told you ‘Oh hey Jen, turns out I might have two sets of memories surrounding you; what do you make of that?’”

Holly paused for a moment before adding under her breath, “I thought I was just as crazy as you think you are.”

Jennifer bit her bottom lip as she looked from Holly, to her hands, to out the window, then back to her hands. She didn’t know what she would’ve done if Holly had told her the truth either. At least not then. The incident with Duke that first night had already rattled her to her core; she couldn’t imagine Holly dropping that on top of her at the same time. So while she was hurt that Holly had been sitting on this for who knew how long, she understood why she kept it to herself.

“But, uh, Adelaide seemed to know a lot about this whole thing too,” Holly continued, her concern for her friend, as well as her fear for the damage her lie of omission had done to their friendship, making her speak carefully, “She…she talked about how there were people out there that wanted to hurt you and take you away—that you were _special_ and that all of this had something to do with how you always seem to be able to find things. And maybe it has something to do with that door you said you saw in Adelaide’s shop? But, Jesus, what the fuck do _I_ know about any of this?”

Holly was mostly talking to herself now, as Jennifer placed her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hand for a moment, taking a few slow breaths to quell the panic that was rising in her chest. People wanted to take her away? People wanted to _use_ her? She thought of the figure at the end of the hall. She wasn’t special—she was just an ex-journalist for the _Boston Globe_ , she was just a girl with two dead parents and no idea how to find her biological family, she was just plain old Jennifer Mason. She didn’t _want_ to find magical doors, she didn’t _want_ to hear voices or feel like her life was coming apart at the seams or feel like this wasn’t the first time any of this had happened, she didn’t _want_ to be special. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be back with Duke.

She just wanted to be Jennifer Mason, whatever that meant.

Holly stopped her ramblings to herself and placed her hand on Jennifer’s back to rub it gently while Jennifer tried to gather herself again.

“She…” Holly spoke quietly, as if she were trying to soothe a scared animal, “She said that you’re safest with her. At least for now. But I don’t know if—,”

“Holly?” Jennifer tried to keep her voice even but it broke on her friend’s name.

“Yeah?” Holly murmured gently, like a mother talking to a scared child.

“Could you…could you stop? Please?” Jennifer’s voice quavered as she spoke, still trying to keep it even and strong, but that only made it sound more strained than it really was. She didn’t want to think about this anymore. She didn’t want to think about Adelaide, or her questions, she just wanted to pretend to be normal.

Holly nodded, “Yeah.”

She focused on just carefully rubbing Jennifer’s back as she continued to try to breathe. This…was a lot to take in all at once. Which seemed to just be the way the world worked lately—questions on top of questions that weren’t answered yet and when they _were_ answered, they just resulted in more questions and there never seemed to be an end to it.

After a few minutes, Jennifer finally sat up and swept her fingers under her eyes to stop whatever tears were threatening to fall there. She turned to Holly and tried to smile at her, “Can we…can we be normal for a little bit? Please? I…I can’t talk—I can’t even _think_ about this anymore right now.”

Holly gave her a confused look, “Don’t you want—?”

“Yes, I want answers.” Jennifer answered tiredly, “More than _anything_. I want to know what the fuck is going on, why it all has to center around _me_ , and I want to know the _truth_. But we don’t have all the parts yet—I don’t know completely what Duke knows, and I don’t know when—or even _if_ —Adelaide will finally be upfront with me about everything.”

Jennifer sighed and mumbled to herself, “More questions than answers—and here I was actually kind of starting to _enjoy_ my retirement from journalism.”

Holly nodded, “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

Jennifer grabbed her purse and started climbing out of the car as Holly asked, “Why don’t you tell me about what happened last night? You and Duke seemed _awfully_ chummy this morning.”

Jennifer smiled, this time with some genuine warmth, as a faint blush colored her cheeks. The events of last night and this morning played back out in her mind, pushing away her questions and panic about whatever mysteries her life had in it now away, if only for a moment.

Holly grinned mischievously at Jennifer as she clambered out of the car after her, “Oh, so something _did_ happen! Tell me tell me tell me!”

As she’d started her chant, Holly fell into step next to her and had grabbed her arm to start shaking it in time with her chanting, earning a laugh out of Jennifer for the first time. Thank God for Holly—without Holly and her knowing just what to do to distract her, Jennifer’s sure she’d completely lose her mind; if she hasn’t already. Jennifer tried to brush her off and walked a few feet ahead of her, “There’s not much to tell!”

“Oh bull _shit_!” Holly laughed back rushing to catch up to her, “The second I mentioned him you started blushing and grinning like a school girl! I half expected you to start _sparkling_ or something!”

Jennifer just laughed at her as she fell back into step next to her, “ _Nothing_ happened!”

They started walking to the store, and Holly quickly looped her arm through Jennifer’s and pulled her against her side as they walked, “Oh no you don’t! You don’t get to do the ‘nothing happened but something did happen but I want to dangle it in front of you’ dance that you always do—this is too important!”

Jennifer laughed again, “Fine! Fine!”

Holly bounced as she walked, holding the door open for Jennifer and following after her quickly so she didn’t miss anything. Jennifer told her about their moment the night before—how she’d had a nightmare and he helped talk her through it, and about how she’d read to him most of the night—about their kiss that morning, discretely letting Holly know where those events fell in with her earlier story, and about their moment in the Psych section when she’d gone back to see if the door was still there or if it was gone. Holly made the appreciative and appropriate noises during the story about how cute they had been, even grabbing Jennifer’s arm and shaking it at certain points again as if trying to draw her attention to just how cute the story was. It reminded her of when they were in high school, and when their problems were more manageable.

Jennifer just blushed and smiled, rolling her eyes at how ridiculous Holly was being, “It’s not _that_ —,”

“Yes it is ‘that’!” Holly interrupted, shaking her arm a little, “So what were you two talking about before we left? Getting all up close and _personal_ like.”

Holly’s eyes were bright in curiosity and humor, even rolling her shoulder as she said the word “personal,” making Jennifer’s own smile grow. Holly always did this. She always found a way of helping her forget her problems and of making her laugh. Even when Jennifer was young enough to think that she’d never laugh again, Holly had found away.

She shrugged, “Well, we’re apparently going to his place for dinner tonight, so—,”

Holly squealed, cutting her off, grabbing her arm again, and shaking it excitedly—Jennifer wondered absently if Holly could actually shake her arm out of its socket, “Hell yeah you are!”

“Holly—,” Jennifer smiled, blushing and even rolling her eyes at her.

“What are you going to wear?” Holly interrupted, her expression suddenly serious.

Jennifer gave her a confused look, “Excuse me?”

“To your date?” Holly clarified, a bit too condescendingly, “With the hot guy who stayed the night at your place last night, who you were all over this morning, who—,”

“I get it.” Jennifer laughed.

“Good! So what are you going to _wear_?” Holly put an exaggerated emphasis on the word “wear,” trying to imply something that Jennifer just was not getting yet.

Jennifer’s brows stayed knitted in her confusion as she looked down at her outfit, “Is there something wrong with what I have on now?”

Holly gave her an incredulous look for a moment before she rolled her eyes to the ceiling, closing them for a moment and whispering to herself, “Give me strength.”

“Holly,” Jennifer said, carefully dragging her name out, “You know I get nervous when you talk to the Man Upstairs.”

Finally, Holly looked back at her and said, a bit loudly and unnecessarily slowly, “I am asking. What lingerie. You plan to wear. For your _date_.”

Jennifer felt like her face was on fire, “Oh. _Oh._ ”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Holly giggled at her as she leaned on the top of a clothing rack, crossing her arms there and resting her chin on her forearms as she watched Jennifer for a moment.

Finally she expectantly asked, “Well?”

Jennifer, with her embarrassment shifting to a state where she was going to vehemently deny that anything was happening, focused on a dress hanging from a nearby rack as she replied, “Well what?”

Holly rolled her eyes again and nearly stamped her foot, “Dammit Jennifer!”

“I’m sorry!” Jennifer nearly yelled back before checking the volume of her voice, nervously looking around the store at the other shoppers, none of whom, thankfully, seemed to be interested in whatever was going on between them.

She continued in a harsh whisper, “I just can’t believe you want to have this conversation in _public_!”

“What, as opposed to the _incredible_ privacy of your cousin’s bookstore?” Holly asked skeptically, now moving to lean with her left arm against the clothing rack that she’d been leaning on before so that her right hip jutted out.

Jennifer sighed exasperatedly. Despite her obstinance to Holly’s…conversational topic choice, she had a point; this was probably her best—if not only—chance to talk about what she hoped for on her date without any repercussions or snide comments. Especially if her cousin’s recent hostility to and about said date was any indication of her attitude for any later developments.

If there _were_ any later developments.

That was a thought for later, though; now was time to continue to pretend to be normal. Just for a little while longer.

Jennifer turned to Holly and finally answered her original question, “I mean…I’m not sure anything _will_ happen tonight—We’ve only, like, _just_ started dating—or I guess doing whatever the fuck it is that we’re doing—and, I mean, you know me; this isn’t like me—,”

“By rights, Jen,” Holly interrupted, “I think the circumstances for you two coming together allows for a bit of a… _deviation_ from your usual first date song and dance routine. Which, while fun, I’m sure, doesn’t seem to be something that Duke’s interested in.”

Jennifer nodded in agreement, “That’s sort how I feel about it too—on both counts. Anyway. So because of that uncertainty, I figured I’d, um,” she lowered her voice and leaned closer to Holly so that Jennifer could be sure that she was the only one to hear.

Holly leaned forward slightly towards Jennifer as well, to be sure that she heard her, as Jennifer spoke in a low tone, “I’d wear—I am _wearing_ that light blue, lacey-kind-of-see-through set? Y’know?”

Holly’s eyes sparkled with recognition as she stood up straight and said in a normal voice, “Oh! The Lucky set?”

Jennifer covered her eyes with her hand as her face burned, “It is _not_ —,”

“Oh don’t even.” Holly grinned good naturedly, “I remember the set. I believe that it got quiet a bit of use during our college years.”

Jennifer scrunched her nose at her, “It did not get—! That’s not even _kind_ of—! _You_ were the one who called it the Lucky Set! That was _one_ time!”

Holly chuckled, shrugging dismissively, “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

Jennifer continued to glare at her as Holly seemed to consider Jennifer’s choice for a moment, tilting her head to the side as she thought. Then, she said, her tone a bit strained, “But that’s…good. I mean it’s, it’s… _practical_.”

Jennifer narrowed her eyes further at Holly, “That sounds like a bad thing.”

Holly shrugged noncommittally, “Well it’s just…if it were _me_ and if _I_ hadn’t been laid in over a year—,”

“It has not been over a year!” Jennifer tried to defend, her face flashing red again and her eyes darting around the store to the other customers. Once again, none of them seemed to be paying them any mind—or, at least, not any obvious mind—and Jennifer was very, _very_ relieved for that little gift from the Universe.

Holly gave her a briefly skeptical look before conceding, “Honey, the last time you even had the _prospect_ of gettin’ laid it was that Johnny—,”

“Jeffery.” Jennifer corrected, smirking at her. It didn’t really matter what his name had been, Jennifer knew Holly’s point still stood. It was just the principle of the thing more than anything else.

“— _Jeffery_ ,” Holly conceded, rolling her eyes, “guy who took you sailing.”

Holly gave her a meaningful look, “And we all know—or think we know—how _that_ ended.”

Jennifer grimaced, “Yeah the whole ‘getting knocked out by the boom of the sail boat into the water’ thing _did_ put a damper on the mood.”

Whether or not it was _real_ remained to be seen, but there was no point in bringing that up now; especially not since both of them could feel the sentiment without needing to mention it explicitly.

“Understandably,” Holly nodded, “Anyway. If it were _me_ , I’d go with something more… _bold_.”

“Bold.” Jennifer repeated, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Bold.” Holly said back, nodding, “Something in red. You look good in red.”

“I look good in anything.” Jennifer said, mockingly defensive and falsely confident. Holly usually brought this side out of her—the side that believed that her bite was as bad as her bark, even if the opposite was true more often than not.

Holly laughed at that, “Alright, true.”

Then a mischievous grin lit across Holly’s face and a dangerous glint appeared in her eyes, “I think I know what we’re shopping for today.”

“Holly.” Jennifer warned, though her smile betrayed her.

“ _Jennifer_.” Holly said back, mimicking and exaggerating her tone, “C’mon! Adelaide _did_ give you her credit card, right? Said she owed you some fun? I think this qualifies as that. If not for the guarantee of _future_ fun.”

Jennifer kept her glare steady, prompting Holly’s tone to go a bit whiny and she even stamped her foot again, “Oh c’mon! You deserve to get yourself some beard burn!”

“He doesn’t even _have_ a—!” Jennifer tried to interrupt, blushing at the idea, but not entirely displeased with the prospect.

“Let me help you!” Holly continued, undeterred, and dragging out the words of her sentence.

Jennifer laughed nervously at that, before a memory bubbled up and played out in her mind, distracting her from her friend and from her present.

She was in a restaurant—the Gray Gull, her past-self seemed certain—sitting next to Duke, and across from another couple—a blonde woman who seemed vaguely familiar to her present-self, and whom her past-self couldn’t give a name to though it was obvious they knew each other, and a brown haired man who looked as if he wasn’t used to smiling like he was currently doing in the memory and whom her past-self still couldn’t give a name to. She kept shifting in her chair, trying to keep her thighs from touching under her skirt and agitating the irritation between them. Her past-self was chastising herself for not wearing something more under her skirt.

As the other couple left—to dance, or to get them all more drinks, the reason had gotten lost in the chatter of the restaurant and in time—she felt a hand settle itself lightly on top of her thigh. She’d turned to Duke—his hair was long enough to be tied back in a low ponytail, but that never stopped two strands from framing his face constantly; her present and past-selves loved his hair like this—hadn’t she talked to him about keeping his hair long?—and felt herself smile at him as she reached up and tucked one of the strands behind his ear. He was looking at her with concern and she wanted to ease that in him—they were having fun, and she didn’t want him fussing over her for something that—

“You okay?” He’d asked, just low enough for her to be the only one to hear and pulling her out of her thoughts, as he leaned closer to her.

She’d smiled sheepishly at him, “No—I mean, yes. I’m fine.”

He’d arched an eyebrow at her, “Now I _know_ you’re a better liar than that. What’s wrong? You’ve been squirming in your seat all night.”

She felt her smile turn a bit mischievous as she’d replied, “It’s nothing just a bit of, um, _beard_ burn, I think.”

She remembered watching as his face went from confusion to recognition and then to an amused smirk as he leaned closer, moving his hand down to her knee and then temptingly back up her thigh, pushing her skirt up slightly as he went. She bit the corner of her lip as his hand moved between her thighs and squeezed as he mumbled, “That…that’s—,”

“Totally your fault,” she remembered finishing for him, smiling as she turned a bit to face him.

He’d just smiled back at her before trailing the fingers of his free hand down her jaw and said, “Something I gladly take the blame for.”

She came back to her present-self, somehow with a residual fluster, to see Holly looking at her, both expectantly and with barely hidden concern.

“You okay, Jen?” Holly asked, placing a nervous hand on her shoulder and squeezing it.

Jennifer smiled, trying to be reassuring, as she tucked one of the free strands of hair next to her face behind her ear, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.”

Another memory. A _new_ memory. It didn’t answer any of her questions—hell it didn’t tell her much of anything really—but it was _hers_. And she got to keep it.

Holly studied her for another moment before asking her quietly, “Did you have another memory-thing?”

Jennifer smiled and nodded.

“What was it about?” Holly asked, her eyes wild with curiosity and excitement, “I’d guess from the blush it was something _exciting_.”

Jennifer’s smile turned playful as she answered, “Let’s just say that I think you’re right about going for something… _bold_.”


	9. How does a Buddhist handle an Existential Crisis?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We gon' learn today.   
> So this chapter has been, not only a long time coming, but was probably the hardest to write. There is a lot going on here, and I feel like I'm taking a lot of risk with my ideas but I hope that it's worth it.   
> Thank you all so much for your continued support, and a big huge thank you to my best friend and Beta reader, Sunny, for her help the past week in making sure that this chapter is what is is now. But, okay, here we go.

Duke stared at Adelaide. Half expectantly, half angrily, all with an unspoken, though obvious demand for the answers that she had promised.

Adelaide continued to be undaunted by his gaze and instead turned her attention to Joshua, who was looking from Duke to her and back in increasing levels of confusion and concern. Little John clamored off the couch, stretching as he did, and went to Duke. He sat next to him, so both of them were watching Adelaide expectantly, and with their own versions of agitation coming through both of their gazes. Duke reached down and scratched Little John’s shoulder as they stood together, still not taking his eyes off of Adelaide.

“Joshua?” She said, a commanding edge to her voice that was subtle enough for her overall tone to still seem conversational but put everyone else on edge.

This was obvious in the way Little John’s ears perked up and how Joshua sat up on the couch. He moved to the edge of the cushion he was sitting on as if he were a dog just being called to attention by his master, “Ma’am?”

“Could you go and check on Brielle for me?” Adelaide asked, leaning against the counter, still trying to be conversational, even smiling lightly at him, “We kind of got into a fight this morning and—,” her eyes flicked briefly to Duke, “—it’s looking like I won’t have a chance to go up and patch things up with her myself. Think you could go and win me back into her good graces?”

Duke could almost tell that Joshua wanted to make a joke at the request, as if that were the usual response to something like that, but all Joshua did was nod as he climbed to his feet, “Sure thing.”

With that, he carefully walked passed Duke and Little John, shooting him a look that was equal parts sympathy, and fear. Duke didn’t know if Joshua was afraid _of_ him or _for_ him, but he supposed it didn’t much matter now. Joshua rolled his shoulders under his blue, unbuttoned plaid shirt as he walked. He climbed the stairs quickly, trying not to look back, and once the clattering of the beaded curtain at the top of the stairs faded, it was back to just being Duke and Adelaide and their staring contest.

They regarded each other for what felt like an eternity—Adelaide still looking at him as if she were trying to _find_ something, and Duke looking at her like he would any other threat: in evaluation.

Finally, Adelaide moved, leaning behind the counter, and pulled out Duke’s bag. Duke’s hackles rose immediately in response, “What the _fuck_ are you—,”

She tossed it onto the counter and rummaged through it briefly, ignoring him, before pulling out the gun that he often had in his overnight bag. He crossed the room to her, Little John following closely, and braced himself for either the eventual “I don’t want this near my child” speech that she seemed like the type to give about the gun or for her to _do_ something with it. She just looked the gun over briefly, though, as if she were appraising it. She seemed familiar, if not comfortable, with the gun, even keeping her finger resting above the trigger on the frame of the gun as he’d seen numerous cops do, as she looked it over.

This did not comfort him.

As seemed to be the theme with her, he didn’t know what she was looking _for_ —besides, perhaps if the safety was on—but she seemed unbothered by whatever it was before she finally just set the gun on the counter between them, next to _The Child of Ruin_. Adelaide continued to be very careful not to touch the book as she did in a gesture that was equal parts disgust and fear.

Duke arched an eyebrow at her before crossing his arms and standing opposite her of the counter. He nodded towards the gun, “You got a plan for that?”

“I believe that was _my_ question.” Adelaide replied, smirking briefly, before her face turned serious again. She placed her hand on the gun and turned it so the handle was directed towards him. His eyebrow stayed raised as she removed her hand from the gun, leaving it as some sort of strange invitation—or maybe it was a test—and returned her hand to the edge of the counter so she could continue to lean against it, saying, “But we’ll come back to this.”

It’d be too easy for him to grab it now, and if he’d managed to figure out anything from his brief time in Adelaide’s world, it was that _nothing_ is easy.

She squared her shoulders and said simply, “Ask me your questions.”

Duke glared at her, “You _know_ what my fucking questions are.”

She shook her head, “I can only answer them if you _ask_ them.”

“Okay,” he said, throwing his arms up, “how about ‘what the fuck’?”

Adelaide sighed, “You’ve got to be specific. ‘What the fuck’ kind of means a lot of things.”

“Not where I’m from.” Duke nearly growled.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, Duke,” Adelaide sighed again.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He mumbled.

Adelaide gave him a pointed look but continued, “Look. I get it. You’re annoyed. And—,”

“Oh, I am _well_ passed annoyed,” Duke warned.

Adelaide rolled her eyes but continued, “— _and_ I haven’t been helping with that. I know. I _get_ it. But there are certain… _rules_ that need to be followed—that _I_ need to follow—if I’m to give you the answers you want.”

“Rules?” he scoffed.

“That’s fucking right.” Adelaide snapped at him this time, tapping her index finger against the counter, “ _Rules_. Now I know you don’t have a penchant for following those things, but I’m hoping that you’re exasperation at me running circles around you has worn that down so that we can finally talk like _adults_.”

Duke continued to glare at her but when he didn’t say anything in response to that, she continued, “Good. Alright. Now. The first rule—for now—is that if a question is asked, I answer it. So. _Ask_ me a _question_.”

Duke sighed through his nose and gritted his teeth, “Fine. Who are you? _What_ are you? What is this place? Why is Jennifer here? Who took Jennifer after she died? Why has it been over a _year_ and I only just _now_ found out—found _her_? What the fuck is going on with that _Child of Ruin_ book and why can’t you touch it? What _is_ Jennifer? Why is she so damn _important_ to whoever took her? Just—what the ever loving _fuck_ is going on here?”

“In what order would you like me to answer those?” Adelaide asked, smirking.

He glowered at her, and even Little John growled lightly next to him. Adelaide arched an eyebrow at him, looking briefly from him to Little John and back with that annoying calculating glint in her eyes again.

She shrugged, bringing her hands off the counter and lacing her fingers together, mumbling, “Too soon for jokes? Fine.”

She let her joined hands fall in front of her as she said simply, “I’m…”

She stopped, trying to figure out how to start, before she let out a huff of a laugh, “I’m…”

She trailed off again, suddenly lost in her thoughts, before walking out from behind the counter and starting to pace from the door to the kitchenette to the bookcase behind the couch. As she walked, she asked, “Do you know what the word ‘bouquin’ means?”

When Duke didn’t reply—or maybe just didn’t reply fast enough—Adelaide continued, “It’s a French word. Or it was. It means, in some dialect, in some region, in some _time_ , it—it means ‘book.’ Now my father, who I inherited this shop from—who I inherited so _much_ from—it’s in the eyes—Sorry—my father used to tell me that the most _powerful_ thing that _any_ creature in the universe could do, was to tell a story. And it didn’t _matter_ if the story was never verbalized, if the story was never shared, if the story never did anything—the _second_ —,” she snapped her fingers for emphasis, “—that a creature tells a story in any capacity, it has created something _immensely_ powerful.”

Duke watched her pace, leaning his left hip into the counter as he did. He wondered if she was even aware that he was now the closest party to the gun. She certainly didn’t seem to _care_ , if she was. Little John watched her as well, his large head following her from one end of the room to the other as if he were watching a tennis match.

“Now,” she continued, turning to head back for the kitchenette, “I don’t know what you know about the parallel universe theory or the multiverse theory, but, _very_ basically, they’re theories that more or less state that at the same time our universe is happening, there are literally billions of others happening at the same time under different parameters and laws. Some of them are vastly different from the universe we know, and others are only as different as a beach having one more or one less grain of sand.”

“What’s that got to do with—?” Duke tried to interrupt. Adelaide was all but rambling at this point and he was hoping that there was some sort of point hidden away in her meaning.

“Right,” she cut him off, “what’s this got to do with you? Well, more specifically, what’s this got to do with _Jennifer_. The million dollar question.”

She ran a hand through the hair on the left side of her head so that it hung over the shaved back of it, mumbling, perhaps to herself, it was hard to tell between her pacing and staring at her feet, “What’s this got to do with stories—right. Okay. I can do this.”

She paused in her pacing to look at him, gesticulating widely, “Okay, when a person creates a story, right? They, in a manner of speaking, create a universe. Now, that’s all well and good—telling stories is part of what makes us so _marvelously_ different from anything else we know about—but the problem lies in _control_. When a person—,” she held the index finger of her left hand up to him, “—creates a story—a _universe_ —it can spiral out of control.”

As she mentioned “spiral,” she began to cycle her right index finger around her left finger to demonstrate. As she continued, she began to move her hands from being close to her middle to as far as her arms could go, making her look like she was playing an invisible accordion, “It can grow, it can shrink, and change hands, it can atrophy—it can do literally _billions_ of things. And that would be fine, but since we are social creatures, we _share_ stories and when we do that, that opens our little stories—our little universes—up to so much _more_.”

She had gone back to just throwing her hands around on certain words as she spoke, “Suddenly there are branches and additions and parallels and re-imaginings—all for just _one_ little universe that _one_ little person on _one_ little planet—out of the _innumerable_ other planets and solar systems and galaxies and who knows what else—while there are seven billion _other_ little people on that same little planet doing the exact same thing.”

She started pacing again, “So it’s not hard to imagine, then, how quickly what little control the original creator has can disintegrate until, finally, chaos ensues. And when chaos ensues no one wins.”

She gestured to herself as she turned back to him, “I don’t win.” Then she gestured to Duke, “You certainly aren’t winning and that just—,”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Duke finally yelled at her, “This isn’t a fucking story—this is my _life_! This is _Jennifer’s_ life!”

Adelaide stopped in her pacing again and gestured at him with closed fists, eyes bright and completely unbothered by his yelling, “Oh but see, that’s the thing— _everyone’s_ life is a story! And Jennifer’s is one of those ones that’s spiraled out of control! _That’s_ why she’s here!”

Duke pinched the bridge of his nose, debating, briefly, on finally picking up the gun to make his next sentence fraught with meaning. He abstained, and gestured with his open hand, “Okay _look_ ; you better start giving me fucking straight answers _soon_ , because this is starting to feel less like you being straight forward with me, and more like you’ve lost your goddamn _mind_.”

She chuckled mirthlessly, unclenching her fists and gesturing grandly, “A valid assessment. But, okay, just—give me a second to think.”

Duke rubbed his forehead and dragged his hand the side of face until he rubbed the stubble along his jaw, before gesturing towards her as if to communicate that he would wait, thought he wasn’t exactly happy about it. Adelaide didn’t seem to notice as she tried to figure out her next words carefully. Duke just wasn’t sure if that was going to make any difference for all the sense she was making so far.

Finally she spoke, “You asked me what I am.”

Duke sighed again and nodded as she continued, undeterred, “Well, what I am, in it’s most _basic_ form, is a book keeper. Now that sounds like I’m dodging your question, I know, but I’m not. That’s just the _easiest_ way to concisely compact what I am. I’m a Book Keeper—or I’m _the_ Book Keeper, depending on who you talk to and if we’re feeling dramatic—I keep stories straight.”

Duke groaned, “This isn’t a _fucking_ —,”

“Let me finish.” Adelaide stopped him, holding her hand up as if to physically stop him. There wasn’t an edge of force in her tone, no aggression or agitation, just a sort of exhaustion that surprised Duke a bit, enough so that he held his tongue once more.

She continued, “I keep stories straight. And _that’s_ why Jennifer’s here. Her story—her _purpose_ —got all screwed up in your original narrative—and I mean a couple of other things did too but that’s not for me to get into here—but aside from being lucky enough to have impressed enough of the right people in the right places to get her put into _my_ care, she’s also very, _very_ important.”

She gave Duke a meaningful look, “You might even say she’s _special_ , even.”

Duke continued to stare at her, the fact that she was echoing his sentiment to Nathan when he had been waiting for Jennifer to meet him at the place they had agreed to after she died barely registering among everything else Adelaide was saying.

“What _I_ am, what my _shop_ is,” she continued, beginning to pace again, much more slowly this time but still gesturing grandly as she spoke, “is everywhere. My shop is a meeting place for all those multitudes of other stories, other universes. You are standing in a reflection of a nexus of a neural network of hundreds of millions of stories from every time, place, and person in this world. The original is really so very impressive. Anyway, when someone comes here—when their story _appears_ here—it is because their story needs fixing, or they need guidance, or a clear mind—they always need _something_. I am there in those other universes but I am only really brought—I am only _invited_ —into the narrative when something needs _correcting_ —which is why your friend Dwight only found me _explicitly_ in about twelve stories. I am _referenced_ in hundreds more—never by name, but that’s the nature of the story—but I am somewhere in all of them. All of these books—,” she gestured grandly to encompass the whole of the store as she came to a stop behind the counter once more—“are jumping off points to those other universes. But most of the ones in this shop, that I have access to in _this_ version of myself—because there are many, _many_ versions of myself—it’s in the eyes—Sorry, this isn’t about me—that’s an _entirely_ different conversation for a _very_ different time—anyway, _these_ stories have to do with you two.”

She smiled fondly for a moment as she digressed, eyes still bright as she looked around her shop again, “You know, there’s a universe where she’s a faerie princess—I love that one—and there’s one where you two meet in a coffee shop, one where the Troubles never existed—like that Haven your friend Audrey visited—you’re a cop in that one and that just gives me _endless_ joy. There’s one where she’s a mermaid, one where she’s a tattoo artist and you own a flower shop—and a different one where those are switched—one where she’s a singer at a club owned by the mob _you’re_ a part of, ones where you never met, ones where you grow up together, ones where all you do is bump into each other, ones where you’re perfectly happy with other people—they’re _all_ here. And do you know what I find most _incredible_ about all of them? Aside from their sheer number?”

Duke shrugged and shook his head, at a loss for even a guess of an answer, as she answered her own question, “You two _always_ find a way back to each other—whether it’s romantic or platonic or only goes so far as a conversation or a small exchange in a couple of lines—something _deep_ in you both calls out to the other and you _always_ answer it. Despite time and distance, against circumstance, in defiance of fate—you _always_ find each other. It’s…it’s _remarkable_.”

There was another pause as Adelaide seemed to get lost in her own mind for a moment before she came back to herself, and looked back at Duke. She smiled, “But that’s all a digression. Back to the matter at hand: Jennifer. That book you found. And you.”

Duke rubbed his forehead, mumbling, “Right, sure, all that’s just a _digression_ —let’s get to the _easy_ to understand stuff now.”

She smirked at him, “I know it all seems like a lot now, but it’s…I mean, it’s really _not_ …”

She stopped herself, thinking for a moment, and then sighed, “You know what? Forget it. To be honest, I still have trouble keeping it all straight and it’s _my_ life.”

She smiled at him, as if she wanted to laugh, or to get him to get a laugh out of him, but when nothing like that happened, she nervously rapped her knuckles against the counter. He didn’t know why she was surprised; they’d all but been ripping each other’s throats out twenty minutes ago, and now she was trying to rebuild a smoldering bridge.

“How do you know about Audrey?” Duke asked, choosing to ignore her attempt at levity, “Or the Troubles? Or what Dwight and I talked about earlier?”

Duke’s instincts—which had been in overdrive since Jennifer left—were telling him that something about all this was incredibly wrong and he wasn’t going to let Adelaide try to divert him from trusting his gut.

Adelaide just smiled, “I know about Audrey because _Jennifer_ knows about Audrey—and because you do too. If it’s in my shop, I know everything about it and everything it knows.”

Duke gave her a skeptical look before her expression shifted from being good humored to being grave. She started listing things, “I know where Wade’s buried, as well as your grandfather’s journal. I know about Colorado and your family’s curse. I know about your mother. I know what Mara did to you—what she _made_ you do. I know about Evi and your death seeing babysitter. I know—,”

“Fine, fine,” Duke cut her off angrily, “I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.” She answered back, “I can’t read your mind or anything so intrusive—what I learn is more like an afterimage of the thoughts and events my charges have been through.”

“Your charges?”

“The people who come here.” Adelaide explained, “If they are in my shop, they are in my care. No harm can come to them here—my shop is one of those places that both exists within the confines of the narrative I’ve been invited into and is very much separated from it. You must’ve noticed the strange radio silence you’ve been under since you came here.”

Duke had, of course, however he’d just tried to chalk it up to Dwight, Nathan, and Audrey being otherwise preoccupied. It was a weak excuse, he had to admit, but the possibility that something about the shop or Adelaide was what was causing the lack of outside communication seemed too outlandish to actually consider.

Then again, the way this conversation was going, that might be the most rational thing he’d heard all day.

“That’s by design— _especially_ for Jennifer—the less outside interference that my charges deal with here, the more likely they are to find what they need so that they can eventually rejoin their story.”

There was a pause then, as Duke tried to wrap his mind around Adelaide had just said, as well as suddenly feeling incredibly violated at the thought that this stranger could so easily know the most traumatic parts of his past without even asking. He hadn’t even had a chance to talk to _Jennifer_ about half the shit he’d gone through. Adelaide’s expression turned soft for a moment as she looked at him, seeming to become aware of what he was going through internally with the idea of someone knowing so much about him against his will, “I take no joy in knowing what I do about you, Duke. It wasn’t your choice to share any of this information with me, or to even be in this situation, and for that I am so very, genuinely sorry.”

Duke refused to look at her, eyes drifting back to the book and the gun on the counter as she offered, “But you being here? You answering that deep _something_ that keeps pulling you and Jennifer back together? That _was_ your choice. I just hope you don’t regret it. Jennifer still needs you.”

Duke continued to not say anything and not look at her. They stood in a painful silence for a long time. Finally, and awkwardly, Adelaide said, “Okay. I’ve thrown a lot at you. So I’m gonna go and check on my daughter and give you a chance to process all of that.”

Duke made to protest—she couldn’t be serious; that rambling didn’t give him answers, it just sounded like she’d snapped—but Adelaide cut him off (she was aggravatingly good at that), “Don’t worry, it’s just a break, not a finish. I know there’s a _lot_ more yet for me to explain to you.”

She made to head for the stairs when her eyes fell back to the counter and the gun resting there. A new tension and question hung in the air between them as they both looked at the gun. He knew Adelaide was thinking about taking it upstairs with her, but her sensibilities as a mother prevented her from taking it any closer to her daughter than it had to be, but she also didn’t want to leave him alone with it.

For whatever reason.

Duke hadn’t even thought of pulling it out of his bag until she had, and by then it was too late. Duke looked back to the gun. This was his chance to take it back—to get it out of Adelaide’s hand and into his. He just had to play her a little if he hoped to actually have the chance to be alone with the gun again.

Finally, they looked at each other, evaluating what the other would do. Duke still couldn’t figure out how to read Adelaide, but Adelaide had no problem reading him. Not that she really needed to, if she was to be believed. She crossed her arms and seemed to stare harder at him before Duke sighed through his nose and made an exaggerated point of turning from the counter and crossing the room back to the couch. He plopped onto it, with Little John clambering on to it next to him, and looked back her as if to ask, “Are you happy?” Adelaide smiled at him as she turned and headed up the stairs, leaving him to “process.”

_“You two_ always _find a way back to each other_.”

Duke absently reached towards Little John and started to scratch at his chest. Little John sighed next to him, shifting slightly to set his head on the armrest.

Adelaide was right. She’d hit him with a lot. He looked at the books around him.

_“All these books are jumping off points to those other universes. But most of the ones in this shop…these stories have to deal with the two of you.”_

That couldn’t be possible. This wasn’t _Reading Rainbow_ or _Wishbone_ ; this was the very _real_ world. With very _real_ consequences. But this was also the world where the Troubles had existed, where _Mara_ had existed, where an inter-dimensional barn had existed, where he had seen and done things that _belonged_ in a story—so was it really that far outside the realm of possibility? Or, at the very least, outside the realm of _his_ possibility? Would it be so outlandish to believe her? But what would believing her mean? If this place, or this situation, was what she described, if this bookshop was somehow linked to parallel universes, what did that mean for what Jennifer was? What did that mean for the world outside of it? What did that mean about the people who took Jennifer and erased her memories? What did that mean about _anything_ that had happened here, or that he’d managed to piece together?

Just.

What did that _mean_?

That he was a story? That they weren’t real? That what he knew of his world and his existence was wrong?

He rubbed his face as he stood from the couch to pace from the front door of the shop to the bookcase opposite it that enclosed the front sitting area. No, he decided, he was _not_ about to have an existential crisis in the middle of this bookstore when he still had no earthly idea what else was going on. His existence and the validity of it didn’t matter. What mattered was Jennifer, and knowing that they were going to be safe.

Duke looked back to the gun on the counter as he turned from the bookcase. He could take it right now. There was nothing stopping him. He could hide it in his waistband and wait for his moment. But the more he thought about it, the more he felt like that _wasn’t_ what he should do. He wondered if that was somehow part of Adelaide’s explanation of her control over the shop, and the thought just made him angrier. He hated feeling so trapped and dependent on what _Adelaide_ had planned, on what _she_ wanted. He wanted to punch something, to yell in Adelaide’s face that he didn’t care about “The Nature of the Universe According to Adelaide”—that he didn’t care what her reasons were for any of this anymore—he had wanted to know at the time, but the more he learned, the less he actually cared about _what_ she was—all he really cared about, all he really wanted was to get Jennifer out of here, no matter the cost.

He sighed at himself as he turned from the display windows to stand at the counter. While he was at it, he didn’t like that Adelaide seemed so _fine_ with him having the gun to begin with. He didn’t like that she seemed so unbothered by him and the fact that he _could_ take the gun back right now, or at any point really, if he wanted to. What did she even want with it? While he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, he had never felt as if she wanted him dead, so what else could she want with it? Why would she even bring it out, since she seems to have known that it was there the entire time anyway?

He stared down at the gun. That feeling of this being exactly what he _shouldn’t_ be doing was stronger now, but he was so close to it. He could just take it and finally be closer to having more control over the situation than he has this entire time.

The stairs started to creak with the weight of a person climbing down them, pulling Duke from his thoughts. As he turned from the counter to look at the stairs, his hand fell to one of the two items on the counter. He expected to grab the gun, but instead, as if propelled by a completely separate force, his hand fell to the book. He moved back to the couch before looking back to the stairs and was mildly surprised to see Joshua climbing down them to him and not Adelaide. Once he sat back down on the couch, he instinctively hid the book between the armrest next to him and the couch cushion, freeing his hands as Joshua wondered back into the front of the shop. He didn’t know why he chose to hide the book over the gun, but he was sure it had something to do with the fact that between the gun and the book, Adelaide was most afraid of the book, and that made him feel like he needed to keep it closer.

_Great,_ he thought as he tried to feign nonchalance on the couch and leveled his gaze at Joshua, _another piece of this clusterfuck puzzle._

Joshua smirked at him tiredly, “She drop the ‘parallel universes are in the books’ explanation on you?”

Duke’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise, though it wasn’t as great as it could have been—of course Joshua knew something about what was happening here.

_Because fuck me, right Universe?_ Duke thought to himself.

He gestured to Joshua, “I take it you’ve been through this talk yourself?”

Joshua just chuckled as he walked to the counter. He paused upon noticing the gun, even visibly tensing at the sight of it, before carefully pushing it further down the counter. He hopped onto it to sit, letting his legs swing absently over the edge as he did, and nodded, “Yeah. Heavy shit, huh?”

Duke rubbed his face, “To be honest I don’t even think it fucking matters at this point to me. She could be fucking _God_ or the Buddha himself and I’d still want to shoot her.”

Joshua laughed nervously, looking at the gun before saying, “I don’t think that’s following in the teachings of the Buddha.”

“I’m a reformed Buddhist.” Duke sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Joshua’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise—either at learning that Duke was a Buddhist or at his tone, Duke couldn’t be sure—but didn’t say anything in response. He simply looked around the shop and then finally out the display windows, suddenly anxious and uncomfortable.

“But why do you—?” Duke started in exasperation before sighing in agitation as realization took hold, “Of _course_ you know about all this.”

Joshua grimaced and looked back at him, “Yeah. Sorry. I would’ve told you sooner but—,”

“No.” Duke cut him off, tiredly, “I’m not surprised. Honestly. Of all the shit that just got dropped on me, you knowing is the _least_ surprising thing. And I don’t really care about why you didn’t tell me, or Jennifer, or even your _sister_ sooner.”

Joshua flinched at that. That hadn’t been Duke’s intention, but it was nice to see that _someone_ around Jennifer seemed to genuinely feel guilty about the lies that’d been told to her.

“I just want to know what _any_ of this have to do with you? _Why_ do you know about all this?” Duke asked, digging at Joshua now. He didn’t know this kid, he didn’t know why he was here, what he had to do with anything that was happening here, or why he would lie to his family about not knowing what was going on—but he was going to get straightforward answers from _someone_ and Joshua was looking like that someone.

“Why are _you_ here?” Duke asked, still watching Joshua.

Joshua shrugged noncommittally, as unbothered by Duke’s digs as his shorter, female counterpart, “I owe her a debt.”

Duke threw his hands up in exasperation, grumbling, “I swear to fucking _God_ …”

“Okay, right, sorry—that’s a fair response.” Joshua conceded, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

He rubbed his head absently and sighed, “I…”

Joshua stopped, trying to find the words he needed to make his point before he straightened and moved the lapel of his shirt to better reveal the white tank top beneath. He pulled the collar of it wider to his left to reveal a tattoo on his chest. It was made to look like a crude heart, the kind someone would see carved into a tree, even with a pair of initials sketched inside of the heart that was on Joshua’s chest. “J.B. + I. L.”

Joshua readjusted his shirt as he sighed, “A few years ago, I was in a very serious relationship. Like “gonna move in together, planning our lives together, white picket fence, happily ever after” kind of serious. His name was Isaiah Lawson. He was the love of my life and he died four years ago. I don’t talk about it much—or, well, at all, really.” Joshua continued, looking at his hands, “It happened so suddenly. One minute he was teasing me about not liking some food he’d had me try the night before, the next I’m in a hospital, trying to explain that I was his boyfriend and that I needed to know what was going on.”

Joshua got quiet, then. Duke could see how difficult this still was for him to talk about; it was in the way Joshua’s whole posture, while still sagging from sitting on the edge of the counter, was tense and his eyes had gone from looking at him to the floor. His dark eyes were bright when they flicked back to him for a moment before looking back at the floor and Duke could tell he was doing his best not to cry. Joshua let out a shaky breath before his eyes flicked back to Duke and he tried to smile, “Sorry.”

The movement of the smile and of speaking caused the tears to spill from his eyes and down his cheeks and he quickly moved to wipe them with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. His voice had broken on the word and he tried to clear his throat and straighten himself, tugging at his shirt as he did. He tried again, “I’m sorry. It’s been four years but it’s, uh, it’s still…it hurts.”

Duke nodded, not sure what else to do or say. He shifted awkwardly on the couch. He hadn’t expected to learn something intimate about Joshua—in fact, if he was going to be completely honest, even in the two days of knowing Joshua, he had seen him as more of a fixture, and not as a person. He hadn’t meant to see Joshua in such an inhuman way, but something about his lack of presence had just made it easier. And when he was with his sister who had such a large personality, it was just easier to not consider him as much of anything. Yet here he was, laying out what had to be one of the most difficult times of his life to try to get Duke to understand something so big, and so deep, just to make trusting someone who kept making it nearly impossible that much easier.

Just to help him to help Jennifer.

Joshua cleared his throat again, coughing slightly as he continued, “Jennifer doesn’t really know much about all this—or, at least, I don’t _think_ she does. Holly might’ve told her, but we’ve never—I love Jen, but she’d dealt with her own things, she didn’t need me adding to it. And I mean Holly _knew_ some of…”

He trailed off, lost in what he was trying to say, staring at floor—or through, it was hard to really tell—and asserted, finally looking at Duke to make sure he understood, “Holly doesn’t know about—she doesn’t know. Not really, anyway.”

There was another pause as Joshua continued to stare at Duke, waiting for a response. Duke just nodded. He considered asking Joshua to clarify what it was exactly that Holly didn’t know about the situation he was trying to talk about but thought against it. There was something incredibly fragile about the situation that Duke found himself in and he could feel how unquestionably necessary delicacy was for it. He just wasn’t sure if his question would help or hurt that.

Joshua nodded back and stared through the floor for a moment, fingers twitching against his thighs where he’d laid them making Duke wonder if maybe he used to smoke and was missing the feeling of having something in his hands. Duke remembered how smoking could provide the ease of being able to do something and nothing all at the same time.

Little John snorted in his sleep next to Duke on the couch and shifted so that his paw was over his nose.

Finally Joshua continued, “I didn’t take his death well—I mean, who would? My parents were understanding—or as understanding as they could be for their gay son—but it all put a strain on them; more than I felt right putting them under. I went to the funeral, trying to be supportive of his family—God they had always been so welcoming. It almost made it worst. I thought I was okay at first—or, well, okay _enough_ —but as days of mourning turned into weeks, and then months, I knew I needed help.”

Joshua rubbed at the back of his neck, “I mean I—I struggled with depression and some…suicidal thoughts since I was a teenager. A lot of what Adelaide’s story about what Robbie went through is…well, hell, I know fuck all about the mystical, reality warping baddies that are playing around with your and Jen’s lives, but whatever they’re capable of, they based some of it in truth—just, _my_ truth in this case.”

He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath threw his nose, “I’d been on meds for most of my adolescence and into my adulthood—still am. And they’ve helped—they have; I mean there were still bad days and better days and even a few good days, and they do still help, it was just that…After Isaiah died everything…stopped mattering. My family tried to make sure I was still taking my pills, but it was just so easy to _lie_ about it—I think part of them just wanted to believe I was telling the truth when I said I was fine—which I understand, I mean, who wants to believe that—,”

Joshua stopped and cleared his throat again, “Anyway. Uh, I ended up staying with my parents for a couple of months, hoping that being with them would help to pull me out of the darkness I was falling in. I talked to people, or tried to—I don’t know if I wasn’t talking to the right people or if I just wasn’t saying the right things, but it just didn’t help. Eventually I left their house, swearing up and down that I was okay, and went to stay with Holly in California. Nothing like the sunshine state to make you feel better, right?”

“I think that’s Florida.” Duke commented without thinking, and immediately regretted it.

Joshua just smirked, even chuckled a bit, “I think you’re right.”

There was a beat of a pause, before Joshua continued, “Anyway. So I went out there, but even though I wanted it to help, I really did, I, uh, I ended up finding myself standing on the Golden Gate bridge.”

Duke inhaled sharply and Joshua just bowed his head, partially in shame and partially in admission to Duke, “Yeah.”

There was a painful pause where Duke wanted to say something, _anything_ , but an idea about what _to_ say never reached him. Comfort seemed wrong, and so did any sort of question. All he could do was sit there and stare at Joshua, at a complete loss for what to say or do.

Joshua sighed through his nose and pushed on, “So. I was in California. San Francisco, obviously—mostly because Holly insisted that I stay with her for a little while—maybe she knew what I was thinking, maybe not, maybe it was that I was pushing a year with no real signs of pulling out of what I was trapped in and she was starting to worry, I don’t know—and I went to be with her and I was there for like two weeks before I had her and Andre more or less convinced that I was alright enough to be on my own. I went out to the Bridge, with all my documentation, and…and my note and I…I stood staring into the water for awhile—felt like hours—and then…”

Joshua trailed off there, once again lost in his thoughts of the past. Duke continued to sit awkwardly next to Little John on the couch, still unsure of how to act as Joshua sat on the counter across from him, essentially reliving what had to be the hardest day of his life for Duke’s benefit.

Duke just didn’t know for certain what that benefit really was.

“By some miracle, I survived. I spent about a month of my rehab in the psychiatric ward of the hospital—I was lucky enough to only shatter a couple of vertebrae, and the surgeries that saved me from the internal damage were done in enough time after I’d jumped—apparently someone had noticed me standing around and called the Coast Guard once they realized what I’d done and that bought me enough time to be saved. And then by an even greater miracle my family’s insurance covered the expenses for some experimental medical work that’s made it so that hardly anyone can tell what happened. I still get aches, and I’m not how I used to be but I can move and that’s more than the damage that was done should’ve allowed to happen.”

Joshua smirked absently, a fond, though haunted smirk as he added, “Holly was beside herself, and so were our parents. She ended up acting as our go-between to mitigate what either of us was saying to the other. Holly visited me every day. She never yelled at me, she never made me feel guilty; on that first day she hugged me as best she could and she just cried, telling me how happy she was that I was okay. I kept waiting for the penny to drop—for her to start yelling at me, to ask me what I was thinking, and how I could do that to her or Mom and Dad, but all she did was sit and talk to me. Every single day. Maybe she was checking on me, maybe she was just convincing herself that I had survived and that I was alive, maybe she was trying to show me that she was always going to be there for me—I don’t know. I _do_ know that one night, after Holly had left—and I mean like _right_ after she left—in came Adelaide.”

At this, Duke perked up slightly, shifting again in his seat to lean forward towards Joshua as he continued, “She… she looked unsure of herself, and nervous but she smiled at me and asked how I was doing and I gave her some bullshit snarky answer. I thought she’d deflate and take off with whatever it was that she was trying to sell—there had been a bit of a problem between me and some of the, uh, ‘spiritual’ aides that would stop by for some of the other patients earlier. Granted, she didn’t look like any of them had, I just didn’t want to deal with it. But she just sat in the chair that Holly had left and talked to me for awhile—eventually she got around to why I was there, and I talked to her about Zay—sorry, Isaiah—but there was just this _look_ in her eyes; like she already knew what I was telling her but she wanted me to get through it for my benefit more than anything else. And she…she kept looking around like she was waiting for someone to come in and stop her or tell her to leave.”

Joshua shrugged absently, “I had just thought she was worried that someone was going to come in and make her leave since I knew it was well past visiting hours. After I had finished telling her what I wanted to, we sat in silence for a moment, while she looked around _again_ , before she looked back at me all conspiratorially but with a whole lot of fear and—and I remember everything she said—she said, ‘You miss him, right? Miss what could’ve been? What if I could—I can help you. I can _show_ you what you lost. But only if you want it. Only if you _ask_ for it. And I want you to think about it before you agree and I mean _really think_ about it—is knowing what you lost worth more to you than anything else? Everything comes with a price, Joshua, and I need to know— _you_ need to know if you are willing to pay it.’”

Joshua glanced at Duke and laughed at his expression, “Sounds like some sort of weird sideshow fortuneteller con, right? If anyone else, any _where_ else, had come up to me talking like that I would’ve just kept going or told them I wasn’t interested, y’know? But something…something about Adelaide just…” he sighed, “I believed her. Beyond reason, beyond anything, I believed her. So I asked her, ‘What’s the price?’ And she grinned at me, ‘You work or you forget.’”

Duke let out a sharp breath and rolled his eyes—that sounded about like the Adelaide he’d come to know: ominous and cryptic.

Joshua chuckled at Duke’s expression again, “I know. So I thought about it—not for as long as I should’ve, really, but I had the feeling this was a time sensitive matter—and I agreed. Or, well, I asked her, ‘Will you show me what I lost?’—I don’t know why I phrased it like that; that was just what felt right. And then…I don’t really _know_ what she did. I mean she tells me that all she did was tell me a story but it was so much _more_. She took my hand and…and I was _there_. I…I saw Isaiah again and I saw our life—the one we’d wanted, that we’d planned together with the house we’d wanted and the dogs and cats and we were…we were _happy_.”

Another pause. Joshua stared into the floor again, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Duke looked at the books around him again.

_“All these books are jumping off points to those other universes.”_

And Joshua had been to one of them.

“When we came back or she stopped telling me my story or whatever the fuck it was that she did,” Joshua said, pulling Duke back to his story, “she looked at me sadly and said, ‘This won't make your loss any easier, this won't even make it better; but now you know that it's out there. And that somewhere, outside of our little universe, you are together and you are both happy.’ And I…I cried.”

Joshua smiled again, his eyes bright with tears again, and his voice broke slightly as he continued, “I cried for…god I don’t even _know_ how long. And she just…sat there. She was still holding my hand and she just sat there and let me cry. Finally, I managed to ask her what the hell she did and she gave me the quick and dirty explanation of what, I imagine, she gave you and then—well, then I may have told her to get the fuck out of my room.”

Duke smirked at that, and Joshua smiled with him, “She didn’t. Didn’t even seem fazed by my reaction or me. She just squeezed my hand harder, stared at me very intensely, and said, ‘I'm not allowed to do this—ever. By rights, I shouldn't have even _been_ here yet, but I was. And I did. So now, unfortunately, you have to make a choice. You can either keep your memory of that other lifetime and work for me to pay off...well we'll call it your ‘debt’ but I don’t really like that term. Or I can take all of that away, and you'll be right back where you started before I walked through your door. This is _your_ choice, Joshua. This is _your_ price. You work or you forget.’”

“If forgetting was an option, then why did she even bother showing you?” Duke asked incredulously.

“Right?” Joshua grinned, “I asked her that too and she gave me some arcane answer about needing help and needing to make sure I was still around when she needed it—just kind of a lot of stuff that sounds b.s.-y in hindsight. But something in it convinced me so I—I told her I would work. She told me it would be a couple of years before she’d come back, but there would be… _things_ that she’d need me to do in the meantime and that I would definitely know when she was back for real. So I finished rehab, got set up with some grief counselors, some support groups, and somehow managed to convince my family that my moving back to Boston and managing Holly’s art gallery-slash-shop was for the best. And in all that, I worked for her, did weird odd-jobs for her—all communicated to me through a phone call with very limited explanation—and then one day, like two years ago, this store that hadn’t been here before—like even the _building_ just appeared out of nowhere—was here and I…I just knew.”

There was a more final feeling pause between them as Duke continued to sit on the couch and Joshua continued to sit on the counter, watching him. Finally, unsure of what else to do, Duke stood up to approach the counter and Joshua, crossing his arms as he did. This caused Joshua to straighten instinctively, and entwine his fingers in front of him, between his legs.

“So…what? I mean—Shit that sounded callous—but why tell me all this? What good does that do me? Or Jennifer?” Duke asked.

Joshua shrugged, “None, probably. Look, I’m not saying you have to trust Adelaide—hell, in all honesty, I’m not even sure if _I_ do, and I have the most first hand experience with all this fuckery between the two of us. And I held no preconceived notions that my little tale of woe would convince you of anything but…just…regardless of her actions, and how she’s been acting right now, Adelaide absolutely _does_ have your and Jennifer’s—primarily Jennifer’s—best interests at heart.”

By now, Duke had settled to leaning against the counter to Joshua’s right, arms still crossed, and crossed his left leg over his right so that the toe of his boot rocked against the floor as Joshua tried to continue, “I just…you have to…”

He sighed, absently rubbing his head again, “Look, I don't know _how_ she did what she did for me, or _why_ , but she did. And I owe her so much for that. So maybe I’m a little bit biased because of that, but more than anything I just want Jennifer to be happy and safe.”

There was another pause, as Duke considered Joshua’s admission and Joshua tried to arrange his next words into something that would help Duke to understand his point.

“She was right, of course—Adelaide, that is,” Joshua continued, “it didn’t fix what happened to me or Isaiah, and it definitely didn’t fix how much not having him made me ache—but just knowing that somewhere out there, Isaiah is alive, and that we're happy…something in that was enough to bring me back—to give me that first foothold I needed in coming out of that darkness that wanted to kill me. Some days are bad, some days are good, most days I just get up; but at least I know that, somewhere out there, we're together—that he’s alive.”

Duke nodded next to him, and stared into the carpet in front of them. They both got lost in their own thoughts for a moment. Duke didn’t know what to say or think. He empathized with Joshua—probably more than he should’ve, but there was something terribly _familiar_ about his story that gave Duke pause. There was a mirroring happening between him and Joshua that surprised him. He would be the first to admit that things hadn’t been good after he had lost Jennifer. He had lost himself, done and said things that he still regretted, isolated himself, been used and manipulated by someone he’d wanted to trust—in short, he just hadn’t been himself.

Or, at least, not the self he _wanted_ to be.

There had been other factors that had contributed to what he had gone through in the year after Jennifer had died, of course—and Duke was sure there had been more things that had contributed to Joshua’s choices and experiences as well—but it was hard to miss that one core similarity.

Eventually, Duke found his voice enough to offer, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Joshua just shot him a sideways glance, smirking mirthlessly, and offered back, “And I’m sorry for yours.”

Duke nodded again, and they both went back to looking at nothing.

“What happens now?” Duke asked, more to himself than to Joshua, but he certainly wouldn’t turn down whatever help the other man had to offer.

Joshua shrugged, “Shit, dude, I have no idea. Where you go from here is _your_ choice, Duke—you’ll notice that that’s kind of a theme with Adelaide; choice is kind of a big deal for her.”

Duke sighed through his nose, shifting is posture so that he braced himself with his left hand on the counter to scratch his head with his right.

Joshua braced his hands against the counter as he leaned forward slightly, “The only thing I can offer you is some advice.”  
Duke gestured in front of him with his right hand as he brought it down from his head as invitation to tell him whatever advice Joshua had to offer. Joshua smirked, “Listen to what Adelaide has to say.”

Duke glared at him and Joshua nodded slightly, conceding, “I know she can be hard to work with—,” Duke snorted, earning a brief chuckle from Joshua, “—but she knows a hell of a lot about whatever shit y’all are going through. And she _wants_ to tell you what she knows.”

Duke tsked absently, as Joshua added, “I’m not saying you have to or even should _trust_ her but you’ve been without a leg to stand on since you arrived in Boston. And while blindly groping your way through a situation has been your habit in the past, it’s that same blind groping that got Jennifer killed in the first place.”

Duke flinched slightly, “You know about that?”

“I know what I need to.” Joshua said simply, and annoyingly cryptically. At Duke’s annoyed look, he added, “That’s what Adelaide always says, anyway.”

Duke’s skepticism continued to be clear as he asked, “Do _you_ know where she was for that year after she died?”

Joshua looked at him apologetically and shook his head, “No. I’m sorry. I don’t even think Adelaide actually knows for certain. One day Jen was just… _here._ It was the weirdest thing—I came over one day to talk about another odd-job Adelaide wanted me to do and out of the back room—which, by the way, wasn’t there the day before—came Jennifer with Little John. And before either of us could say anything, Adelaide came bustling down the stairs with stories and explanations and excuses and that was it—my job went from part time to full time.”

Duke sighed but nodded again, “So much for that. I guess that just means I have to get my answers from her, huh?”

“Unfortunately.” Adelaide said, stepping out from behind one of the bookcases that blocked off the base of the staircase.

She leaned against the case, mirroring her stance from earlier that morning, as she added, “If you’re still up for it.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Duke glared at her.

She shrugged, “Long enough.”

Joshua sighed as Duke bristled to shoot back a retort, only to be cut off by Joshua, “Adelaide play nice.”

She forced a smile at Joshua in response.

He sighed and hopped off the counter, “Right. Well I’m going to leave you two to it—just don’t let that be killing each other.”

“No promises.” Duke grumbled.

Joshua shot him a look but only sighed in response and left the shop, calling over his shoulder with a wave, “Good luck.”

There was no response to that as neither of the remaining parties was sure who he was talking to, and they were left in the silence of the shop once again.

“You patch things up with Brielle?” Duke asked, unsure of how to get back to what they had been talking about before she left.

Adelaide arched an eyebrow at him, “Really? _That’s_ your icebreaker?”

“Fucking _bite_ me, okay?” Duke snapped back.

Adelaide sighed, mostly at herself—this wasn’t turning out to be one of her better moments, “Look, Duke—,”

“No.” Duke interrupted, waving his hand as if to physically cut her off, “You don’t want to do it the civilized way? Fine. Let’s just get right to the point. You said you were done with your crazy as hell explanation of yourself, now it’s time for my other questions. You said if I ask a question, you _have_ to answer, right?”

“Yes.” Adelaide replied simply. The fact that she kept her answer to one word gave Duke some glimmer of hope that the rest of her explanations would be as easy and simple.

He continued, “Alright. _What_ is Jennifer?”

“She’s a key.” Adelaide answered, and then clarified, “She doesn’t get the designation of being ‘ _the_ ’ key, but that doesn’t make her any less important. Or, well, maybe ‘catalyst’ is more accurate.”

“And what does that mean?” he tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice but Adelaide knew it was there.

“It means that, while my existence and—I dunno how else to explain it, uh, my ‘job’?—seems very broad and all consuming, it’s actually very specifically made for whatever universe I’m in—I can only exist within the universe that needs me, that I’ve been _invited_ into. What Jennifer is, however, is so very much more universal—she’s not limited to one universe or another—she’s able to open doors _between_ universes and dimensions—but you knew that part already.”

Duke didn’t say anything at first, but she leveled her gaze on him, judgmentally, until he finally nodded tensely. She continued, “Now ask me why she died.”

Duke narrowed his eyes at her, “Why did she die?”

“She wasn’t ready.” At Duke’s continued stare and obvious rising agitation with every second she didn’t offer a further explanation, Adelaide quoted, “‘Her power is to open what is shut; shut what is open.’”

She pushed herself from the bookshelf and walked slowly towards him, arms still crossed in front of her chest even as she shrugged with her words, “Granted that was written about the Goddess of the Hinge— _yes_ it was a thing; don’t give me that look—but that’s Jennifer. _That’s_ what she is.”

“She’s a goddess?” He asked, unsure how to feel about that possibility—it wasn’t a terrible thought, but there were too many implications to consider if that were true.

Adelaide smiled, her eyes turning soft for just a moment, “You make her feel like one, but, no, she’s not a goddess. She is very much mortal—thus the dying thing. Her ability is considered God gifted—I mean, there is _so_ much lore about doors and doorways and who can and can’t open what doors and when but it all boils down to that core concept about opening what’s shut and shutting what’s open; and _that_ is what Jennifer is. She is an echo—a fragment of that first, old goddess. It wasn’t the goddess’s choice to be fragmented, and hell, by rights it wasn’t even completely the fragment’s—it wasn’t _Jennifer’s_ —choice to come _here_ but this was where she was needed—where she _is_ needed. But now it _has_ to be her choice—she has to _choose_ to stay.

“Now, to answer your original question: She died because when you all pushed—,” she had thrown her open hand up on the word, a hard edge to her voice, before she closed her hand into a fist once she caught herself, “I’m sorry, that was bitter; when you all _needed_ her to open that door to follow through on your ‘Let’s Get Rid of The Wicked Wizard of Limbo to Save Audrey’ plan, she was only _just_ starting to understand herself and what she was. She could open, but she wasn’t able to _close_ —that takes a whole different set of skills that she just didn’t—that she _doesn’t_ have yet.”

If looks could kill, Duke would’ve been cleaning up after a murder, “Are you fucking telling me that she died because she was _new at her job_?”

“That’s a gross oversimplification but yes.”

Duke rubbed his face with his hand, mumbling, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Adelaide shrugged, “You had to’ve thought of as much—at the very least about the fact that her ‘trouble,’ as you used to call it, was opening inter-dimensional doors—Even _she_ knew, or had an inkling with her ‘Illegal Alien’ comment just before she died. And that’s putting aside the whole ‘finding things’ thing.”

“I’m gonna regret asking this,” Duke sighed, “but ‘finding thing’?”

Adelaide gave him an incredulous look, “You _know_. Her weird little quirk of being able to find literally anything?”

As he continued to not answer, she leveled a challenge to him, “Look me in the eye and tell me there wasn’t at least _one_ instance where she was able to find something that no one else would’ve or _should’ve_ been able to.”

Duke couldn’t. If anything, there were too many instances where she just _kept_ finding things. Within two hours of being alone on the Rouge, she’d managed find all the secret passageways, and within a day she’d figured out most of his hiding spaces. She’d apologized about it all, saying that she really hadn’t been looking for them and that it had just sort of happened, and while he’d just let it go at the time, something about it had never set right with him—she _shouldn’t_ have been able to find those things unless Duke showed her. That was how he kept his smuggling operation alive and reputable. He had tried to chalk it up to her journalistic tendencies, her just innate inquisitive nature, and he was sure that she’d done the same, but there was something _more_ about it that still stood out to Duke.

Adelaide nodded once, her mouth a tense line as she did, and sighed through her nose, “Right. All of that plays into what she is—but it also plays into why someone would want to bring her back.”

Duke held his hand up to her, “Just, hang on, before you explain, let me sit down—you’re explanations are very long.”

She smirked but conceded, gesturing towards the couch exaggeratedly in offering and letting him sit back down next to Little John before she continued. As she did, she returned to her wild hand gestures, “Because of the whole ‘fragment of an ancient goddess’ thing that she has going on, Jennifer is good at finding things. That would be fine, but the problem is that she can’t filter out what she _is_ supposed to find and what she _isn’t_. Everything is revealed to her—or worse, everything _finds_ her. There are some doors that just _want_ to be opened even if they shouldn’t be. And the people who took her—,”

“And they are?” Duke interrupted.

This made Adelaide pause for a moment. Duke arched an eyebrow at her expectantly. It wasn’t that Adelaide _wouldn’t_ answer, she just wasn’t sure he was going to _accept_ her answer.

“I don’t know.”

He scoffed at her, a mirthless chuckle escaping him, “Oh c’mon.”

Adelaide sighed, “No really—I have no earthly idea. But whoever they are, they are _powerful_ and _determined_ —they brought Jennifer back from the dead, they managed to…well ‘summon’ is the only word that makes sense but it doesn’t feel right—anyway they managed to summon me here, they managed to convince me to take care of Jennifer, they managed to warp her reality enough that the people who cared about her—who were _outside_ of Haven—had no idea that she even _died_ —and worst of all, and probably most worrisome, is that they…they managed to get through my guards to have a door appear to her here.”

“So there _was_ a door.” Duke confirmed.

Adelaide nodded, “Yes. There was. I still can’t believe I didn’t _feel_ it—but there _was_ a door, and I managed to expel it before she could open it completely.”

Adelaide looked at him, suddenly looking nervous, “Did…did she say what she _saw_ on the other side of the door? It wasn’t open enough for anything really substantial to get through but…”

Duke shook his head, “Not really. She was still reeling from the fact that it was there and then it wasn’t.”

Adelaide sighed in relief, “Good. Then maybe nothing happened.”

There was a beat of a pause, and Duke took the opportunity to ask a new question, “Do you know why she’s so important to these powerful-whatevers? And why can’t she leave here?”

Adelaide made a face as she tilted her head to her right, half disgust, half just general uncertainty, “It’s not that she _can’t_ leave here, it’s just that…she’s _safest_ here. Even for their little poke through my guards, this is the best place for her to be until all of her memories are back, and until she’s got a better grasp on her ability. I’m sure you would argue that she’s safest with _you_ , and I’m inclined to agree, but it’s not _you_ I distrust, it’s literally _everything_ else. Doors are _everywhere_ , and if she were to open one before she’s able to close them, you’d just end up where you were three days ago. They _can’t_ get to her here—it has to do with my store being both within your universe and outside of it and, well, to put it simply—for once, I know—they can’t touch her or see her here. As for why they care so much about whether or not she lives or die, it’s mostly out of fear of what she is—because they want her on their side, to only find and open the doors that _they_ want.”

“They want a skeleton key.” Duke mumbled.

Adelaide smirked, “Again, that’s a gross oversimplification but yes. And I have another theory as well about their ‘why’ if you care to hear it.”

Duke sighed before gesturing towards her to continue, “Hit me.”

“They need her back to reform the old goddess that she’s a part of.”

She said it as if it should’ve been obvious and Duke could’ve screamed.

Instead, he rubbed his face with his hands, “For fuck’s—Okay, explain that one to me.”

“Well, see, even if no one remembers the goddess that Jennifer’s pulled from, she is _still_ a goddess and therefore still very powerful. However, the more parts of her there are that exist separate from her, the weaker she is. So if they have Jennifer back…” she trailed off.

“Then they have their skeleton key.” Duke finished for her.

“Gross oversimplification…” Adelaide started.

“But yes,” they said together.

“I have no idea _why_ they’d want their goddess back together,” Adelaide added, “other than as devout followers, which is why for now it’s just a theory. But my gut tells me that in general, they have some nefarious intentions.”

“Sure. Of course.” Duke grumbled as he rubbed his face again before moving his hands to his hair to push it further back on his head.

He continued until his hands on the back of his neck and he entwined his fingers there as he asked, “Why did they erase her memories to before she started to—to hear my voice?”

Adelaide eschewed her mouth to one side in uncertainty, “For that, again, I only have a theory.”

Duke waited for her to continue.

“Because you and Wuornos and Parker messed up a _lot_ of their plans for Jennifer. As far as I can tell, Jennifer wasn’t _supposed_ to, uh—,” she raised her hands to mime air quotes, “—‘awaken’ to what she was when she did. They had other plans for her, and my guess is that they wanted to ‘reset’ her.”

Duke glowered at that and Adelaide nodded, “My thoughts as well. But, then again, I’ve got my _own_ problems with these fuckers.”

Duke shook his head, not to disagree or refute what she’d said, but just because he wasn’t sure what else to do. Finally, he asked another question, “Why did it take so long before I—before _anyone_ found out that she was alive?”

Adelaide made a face again, “That was out of my control. The Faceless Villains knew something was rotten in the state of Denmark in regards to Jennifer and her part in this universe for a while, so they’d managed to get to me agree to work for them two years ago—but one of my iterations had been aware of the weirdness in this place for a little longer than that so it wasn’t like it took much—but none of that is important right now so…anyway—then she died, and they got me moved here basically to wait until they were ready and then a year after that, there she was. No instructions, no user’s manual, just basically being told to—,” she dropped her voice to a gruff husk to try mimic an actor from a popular movie, “—‘keep her secret. Keep her safe.’ As far as I know for the _why_ of it all—I guess it takes a long time to bring someone completely and correctly back from the dead.”

Duke smirked at that before he could think to stop himself, but thankfully Adelaide didn’t draw any attention to it. He sighed and threw his hands up in front of him, briefly thinking that he was all out of questions to ask, when his hand fell to the book that was still hidden between the cushion and the armrest of the couch. He pulled it out and waggled it at her, “I guess that leaves this.”

Adelaide tensed again once she saw the book. She glared at it as if it were an actual enemy of hers, “Oh. _That_.”

Duke smirked, as he absently flipped through the book, “Wow you really hate this thing.”

Adelaide shrugged, “‘Hate’ is such a… _weak_ word.”

Duke huffed out a laugh and let the book fall back into his lap, “Any particular reason why? You know, on top of ‘What is this’ ‘why is it here’ and ‘why can’t you touch it?’ Since specificity is apparently a big deal to you.”

Adelaide tsked, even grimacing as she did, and repositioned herself to lean against the counter, “I hate it the same way someone hates violence. As for the ‘no touchy’ thing it’s a, uh… _store policy_. I guess.”

“Care to elaborate?” Duke prompted.

Adelaide groaned, letting her head fall back against her shoulders as she went, “Ugh. Okay. So the books, right? All these books that are jumping off points? They have to pass through _my_ hands before I can use them like that. Now, when I have a charge—someone that I’ve either decided to or been told to take care of—their story takes the form of a book. And it usually reveals itself to me immediately, I take it, and then become in charge of their story. And that can mean I do a lot of things with it—but mostly it means that I basically pause it for however long my charge is with me and keep it safe from the small handful of—often very dangerous—individuals who would try to get ahold of the stories to abuse them. The whole book acquisition process is usually pretty cut and dry—and then Jennifer happened.”

Duke grinned at that, annoyingly proud, which only made Adelaide grimace further, “She was here for a month—and yes, she was here for a month,” she added, preemptively stopping him from interrupting her at that fact to explain herself, “and I’m sorry it took that much longer before you knew—there were a lot of restrictions yet on her existence from the Faceless Villains that I was still trying to work around and I have honestly only _just_ gotten her as out from under their thumb as possible but anyway—so she was here for a month and her story didn’t show itself to me _once_. And that has _never_ happened before.”

Adelaide’s gaze turned purposeful and calculating as she studied Duke, “I thought it was never going to show up. And then _you_ come in, and within _hours_ of being here, it practically throws itself at you. As to why I can’t touch it—well—there’s something very specific in the fact that the story passes through _my_ hands and no one else’s when it first appears. That’s part of me becoming the story’s keeper. It’s just…it’s part of the rules. ‘The first being to touch the story is in charge of it.’”

The pieces started to click into place in Duke’s head, “Wait so…so that means...”

Adelaide grimaced again, “Yeah. Congratulations, Duke. You’re now in charge of Jennifer’s story. No one else can touch it, change it, or use it or else…well my dad—who I inherited all this from—was a little sparse on the details about that, but I got the general feeling of ‘bad’ from him when he was explaining it.”

Duke rubbed his face with his hands and let his head fall back to rest on the back of the couch for a moment, “So…so…oh what the fuck, uh, so what does that mean? What do…what do I do?”

“Honestly?” Adelaide asked, her expression as incredulous as his if he had to guess, “I have no earthly idea.”

“Awesome.” Duke replied flatly, letting his head fall back forward.

Adelaide sighed, “Yeah. I mean, I can tell you that the main thing I do is try to keep the charge from finding their own story—it’s not a good idea for them to read ahead in their own lives just…bad things happen. But there are no rules for about _you_ reading it, if you were worried about that.”

Duke shifted awkwardly in his seat like a caught child.

“How far did you read?” she asked, almost sounding like a disapproving mother.

“Just the first chapter.” Duke conceded.

Adelaide shrugged, “Well. It’s your choice to read on from there. I’m sure it could be very illuminating for you. But again—it’s your choice.”

Duke didn’t say anything as he considered his options pertaining to the book and Jennifer before he asked, practically without thinking, “What would you do?”

She sighed through her nose, “Unfortunately, I’ve never _had_ to read their stories. I’ve already told you about the afterimage thing—and then it just doesn’t matter. And no one from the original story has ever been the one to…”

She trailed off, lost in her thoughts for a moment before she came back to herself, “Look, the usual rules just don’t apply here. Jen’s story didn’t present itself to me, it presented itself to _you_ and, while I don’t really know what that means for any of us or for the future, I _do_ know that has set a whole lot of things into motion—things I’m not sure any of us are prepared for.”

Duke moved the book closer to his midsection as he shifted on the couch to rest his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his mouth then his chin, “Like what? Any theories?”

Adelaide glanced behind her at the counter, and a grim resolve came over her, causing her posture to tense. She pushed off the counter and moved to stand on the other side of it, saying as she did, “A couple.”

“I’m all ears,” he replied, gesturing absently for her to continue.

Adelaide stood in front of the gun now, and placed her hand over it again, “If my theory about Jennifer being a fragment proves true, then she’s going to have a choice to make; a choice that is going to change not only her existence in this universe, but my own. And what that means for you is for you to figure out—it could mean that you reprise the same roles you had in Haven—as both killing floor and sacrificial lamb—or it could mean that you back up her choices, no matter what they are or what they mean for you, or me, or her. Or…”

She trailed off. Duke waited a moment to see if she picked back up her thought but when she didn’t, he prompted, “Or what?”

She smirked, “Or it just means that the Universe is, for once, throwing you a bone. What you have in your hands could not only help you to know what’s coming in her story, but it can help you explain to Jennifer everything you’ve learned here today _if_ you choose to tell her.”

He gave her a confused look, “Why wouldn’t I tell her?”

She sighed through her nose, there was a hint of agitation in her expression, but the following sag in her shoulders just made her seem more tired than anything else.

“As a favor to me.” Adelaide finally replied, immediately looking like she regretted it.

Duke scoffed at that, and she tilted her head to the side in a gesture of concession, “Listen, I know I don’t deserve to ask for such a thing, especially given how I’ve been acting—,”

Duke made a noise at the back of his throat that conveyed his agreement while keeping him from saying something more that he might regret. Adelaide nodded again, “But I…I want you to understand that while I completely agree that my hostility towards you was, in hindsight, unnecessary, it was founded in what felt like necessity at the time.”

He didn’t say anything, still waiting for her to say more. She shifted awkwardly and crossed her arms in front of her chest, pulling them tight against herself, “When you…when you came in here, all heart eyes at Jennifer it…well it pissed me off. I guess—I guess my, uh, shit what’s a good word, um, my ‘programming’? As Jennifer’s cousin overrode my predisposition as a disconnected third party. I knew the circumstance for Jennifer’s death, and I knew who you were but I didn’t—I had no real frame of reference for what _you_ went through. I just knew, or felt, that Jennifer’s death was your fault. And to see you acting like…like nothing had happened, and that you didn’t have anything to do with it I…I got spiky. I felt like someone needed to remind you that Jennifer is in this situation because of choices _you_ made.”

Duke clenched his jaw, and Adelaide could see his previous aggression was coming back in full force after being moderately cooled as she finally answered his questions. She spoke quickly, “But I’m sorry. My behavior to you was unfair and unfounded—I _know_ , now, that nothing was stopping Jennifer at any point from making her own choices—from choosing to leave. And I know that nothing that happened was anyone’s fault. And now, very clearly, and because you’ve been in my shop for as long as you have, I know what you went through. I know what you felt. I know the guilt you still feel about it—I know all of that _now_. And I _am_ sorry about my behavior.”

Duke didn’t say anything for a long moment. Adelaide shifted again, absently scratching at one of her arms as she did, and tried to bring back in her resolve as she continued, “But all of that is to say that we have to work together on this. You have to understand that I have been figuring out how to get Jennifer out of this shop and into her own narrative again since I was first told that she would be my charge. Because of my behavior towards you, she’s mad at me. There’s a wedge in our relationship now and I know she’s as frustrated as you were—are? You’re a little hard to read, even being what I am. Anyway—she’s frustrated, so I can more easily get her to leave and…and maybe even go to you, just like you want. Just…give me the chance to be the one to explain this to her. Please.”

There was a pause before Duke pointed out, “She’s going to think I knew all of this and didn’t tell her.”

Adelaide shrugged, trying not to be condescending but not knowing how else to react, “She’s also going to come to the realization that she has no other family after spending the past month thinking that she did. And that I’ve been lying to her for much longer.”

Duke nodded, a gesture that demonstrated that he agreed with her; Adelaide’s consequences were much worse than his.

“Holly knows as well,” Adelaide admitted, “not to the same extent as you, by any means, but she does know some of it. She’s as equally unhappy as you are, I’m sure, about the situation—and me—but she also seems to understand that Jennifer is safe here for the time being.”

Duke just nodded. He wasn’t completely surprised; Holly had been aware of her own memory’s dichotomy for some time now, and if what Adelaide said about herself was true, then there was no way that Adelaide wouldn’t’ve tried to explain the situation to Holly to get her on her side.

Another silence fell over them, though this one was much less oppressive than its predecessors, as Duke’s eyes fell back to the gun. After a moment, Adelaide joined him in considering the weapon that had sat like one of several elephants in the room over the course of the conversation.

“Got a plan for that?” Duke asked finally, repeating his earlier question as he climbed to his feet and closed the distance between himself and the counter, tucking the book under his arm.

Adelaide smirked, “I did. But I don’t know if it’s entirely necessary at the moment.”

Her hand fell back to the gun, covering it again, and she pushed it to the other side of the counter, towards him in offering, “I was going to offer for you to shoot me.”

Duke didn’t bother hiding his surprise as stood opposite Adelaide at the counter. Adelaide continued, “There’s a very real possibility that my death will push me out of this universe and, subsequently, the Faceless Villains as well—or, at least, their immediate connection to you and Jennifer.”

He took the gun from the counter, not putting it away yet as he considered Adelaide’s theory, “A possibility?”

Adelaide nodded, “Like a lot of things about this situation, I’m not sure if it would work. I have vague recollections of how I’d been pushed out of universes and I think some of them had to do with death, but it’s…it’s still not a certainty.”

Duke just nodded again, still considering the theory and it’s implications.

“Now, however, I feel like I need to put that offer on hold.” She continued, leaning back against the bookcases behind the counter, “The stunt with the door today was…troubling. As I’ve said before, it is my job to guarantee the safety of those in my care and if I can’t do that, then I have fundamentally failed my entire existence. I won’t let anything happen under my roof or to my friends that could put any of us in danger.”

She shifted anxiously, suddenly struggling to look him straight on, “And—while I hate to put you in this position—I…I need to know that, if the need arises, you—,”

“You can’t actually be asking me to do that.” Duke interrupted, all to familiar with the direction of this conversation.  
Adelaide gave him a pained look, “I wish I didn’t have to, Duke. More than anything. But you said the only thing you care about here is Jennifer—you have to know that I’m the same. So if there is even a hint that I’m the weak point in keeping Jennifer out of the hands of those people, then you need to be ready to—to do what’s necessary.”

He looked at the gun in his hand. Why did he always end up here? Why was he always the one with the gun in his hand and the one asked to do “what’s necessary”? Why was this always his destiny?

Adelaide moved in his periphery as he continued to stare at the gun. She leaned against the counter until she was leaning far enough for her fingers to curl around the opposite edge of the counter, closest to him. Gently, as if she were talking to an upset child, she apologized again, “I’m sorry, Duke. My asking that of you isn’t fair, knowing what I do, but…as warped as it is to say, you’re the only one I can trust for it.”

Duke closed his eyes and sighed, flinching at the words.

“You have to keep Jennifer safe.” She added sternly.

Duke opened his eyes and looked at her finally, determined to get her to fully understand him when he said, “I will.”

She nodded, straightening and pulling her hand back with her, as he easily turned the safety of the gun off without her noticing.

“Of course,” she conceded, “There’s really nothing stopping you from—,”

Duke leveled the gun so that it pointed at Adelaide’s chest. She tensed, “From doing that.”

She squared her shoulders, her face grim, as she stared at him, waiting to see what he’d do.

Duke was many things but he was not a killer. Not by choice. He could threaten anyone, he was dangerous, and usually people understood that about him when he chose to be or do either of those things, but he was not a killer. But he needed Adelaide to be certain about what not only what she was asking from him, but that she absolutely trusted him—for whatever reason—to make the decisions that she was asking him to make.

He pulled the hammer of the gun back so that it was live. He watched the flash of fear change Adelaide’s expression, as if she hadn’t _actually_ thought he would do that, until it shifted back to the resignation and reserve that she’d had before.

She never looked away from him and her green eyes were so damn accepting and forgiving it made Duke want to scream at her to still be afraid—of him, of what she was asking, of _anything._

_This is your choice._ She seemed to say, not moving, not flinching, and breathing as evenly and as calmly as she had before.

_You have to live with what happens after._

He moved the hammer back into place and lowered the gun from her chest, finally looking away from her. He hated that he was the first one to look away but he couldn’t take another moment of those damn green eyes boring into him.

Adelaide let out a slow breath through her nose as she blinked and seem to finally understand what had just happened.

“Duke?” she said carefully, trying to get him to look at her again. He closed his eyes in a flinch.

She pushed on, “Do we have a deal?”

He finally looked back at her. She held his gaze, moving her hand back to resting between them on the counter, and then rotated her hand on the edge of the counter so that her open palm was held up and out to him. He leaned down to his pack that was still by the counter on the floor and stashed the book and the gun within it. When he straightened, he considered her hand again. She watched him patiently, unbothered by his hesitation, or what had just happened, and still waited.

“I could’ve killed you then.” Duke said numbly.

She nodded, “You could’ve. But you didn’t. Because no matter how much you hate me or distrust me, you know that deep down I’m not really your enemy—nor am I a threat. Yet.”

“Yet.” Duke repeated, narrowing his eyes.

“But that’s why I’m asking you for this.” She pushed on, “Because you don’t trust me, and you will be the first person to call me on being a danger. And because you’ll do what’s necessary.”

He huffed but didn’t say anything as he considered her hand again. Finally, and with a great deal of reluctance, he placed his hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze before rotating their hands so that she could shake his. A weird warmth shot up Duke’s arm as she did, as if he’d touched a livewire. Adelaide let his hand go almost as soon as it happened so that he could pull his hand away from her. He studied his palm, rubbing at it with the thumb of his other hand as he did, and turned his glare to Adelaide.

She gave him an apologetic smile as she waved her fingers at him, and while he couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw a spark dance between her fingers as she did.

“Just, uh, an assurance.”

Duke glared at her, “Was that necessary?”

She shrugged, “Better safe than sorry?”

He continued to glare at her, prompting her to mumble, “Sorry.”

Duke glared at her for a moment more before sighing and scratching at his jaw. Neither of them moved, but Adelaide was looking at him expectantly, as if she knew that he had something more to ask about.

“Will…” he started, then stopped himself, debating for a moment more if he really wanted to know the answer or not, “will she ever regain all of her memories? Jennifer, that is.”

Adelaide gave him a sympathetic look, “I’m not sure. She’s made more headway in the last couple of days than I ever thought possible, given how recently I’d managed to push out the Faceless Villains’ influence on her. So there’s nothing that says she _won’t_ regain them all, but this sort of thing isn’t a certainty.”

Duke sighed again, more deflated than he wanted to be. He knew there were no guarantees for their situation, but he had hoped for something to be solid.

But that was his first mistake.

He had hoped.

“But,” Adelaide added, “she is determined, and she has all of us on her side to help her and to guide her.”

She smiled then, “Remember; You always find your way back to each other.”

Duke smirked and rubbed his jaw again, mumbling, “Right.”

She gave him a once over before making a mockingly disgusted face at him, “Dude, are you still in your clothes from yesterday?”

Duke looked down at himself before giving her a pointed look, “Well it’s not like I’ve had a lot of _opportunities_ to change.”

He smacked his lips exaggeratedly as he suddenly became aware of the taste in his mouth, “Ugh, or brush my teeth.”

She let out a light laugh at that, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Duke leaned down and grabbed his pack as Adelaide managed to check the time, gasping, “Shit you gotta get going—you have a date tonight.”

He shrugged the pack over his shoulder, “I remember. Are you actually alright with her coming to the Rouge tonight?”

Adelaide shrugged, “You’re both adults, Duke. And while I do ask that you give _me_ the chance to explain myself to her before you do it _for_ me, I can’t _stop_ you from doing anything either. It’s all your choice.”

Duke shook his head, “Joshua was right—choice is a _big_ thing for you.”

Adelaide shrugged again but didn’t say anything more to that.

He turned to head towards the bathroom that Jennifer had told him about at the back of the shop, but stopped when he saw Little John. It hadn’t been a pressing question among everything else that Duke wanted to know, but now that he was looking at the dog, it felt like it needed to be addressed.

“What is Little John?”

He heard Adelaide huff out a laugh behind him, “Caught that did you?”

He turned back to her to give her a confused look. She nodded back to Little John, “You ever look into his eyes?”

Duke gave her a look that made it clear that he thought she was pushing the limits of his suspended disbelief. Adelaide let out a short, sharp whistle that made Little John snap awake and clamor off the couch to stand at attention in the middle of the room in front of them.

She gestured to the dog for Duke, “Go ahead; take a look at those big ol’ brown eyes.”

Duke continued to let his skepticism be clear, only to be met by Adelaide’s smirking patience, until he finally knelt in front of Little John to look him in the eyes. Little John, just happy to have someone on his level, immediately started panting excitedly and licked Duke’s face.

He exaggeratedly wiped off his face as Little John sat down, earning a laugh out of Adelaide. Duke shot her a look over his shoulder before he turned back to Little John, scratching his chest and speaking quietly to him, as he studied his eyes.

It took him a moment to realize it, but when he did, it was very obvious.

“Oh what the fuck.” Duke deadpanned.

Adelaide laughed again, “Trippy right?”

Little John’s eyes were _his_ eyes—right down to patterns in the iris. Duke turned to Adelaide, “What the fuck.”

She laughed again, “Right. Okay. So part of becoming my charge means that they get a Guardian—something that acts as their protector when I can’t. This usually takes the form of an animal, and in Jennifer’s case, that turned out to be Little John.”

Duke kept studying Little John, who just kept panting happily.

“Now, about the eyes.” Adelaide continued, “Given the nature of how they brought Jennifer back—specifically sans memories—those memories had to go somewhere right? Now most of them really are just stashed away in her head, but the problem was that—and I laughed for days when I realized this—that Jennifer’s memories of _you_ were so strong and so hard to keep stashed away completely, that they ended up becoming part of Little John.”

Horror colored Duke’s expression as Adelaide laughed again.

“Little John is—I’m— _what_?” Duke asked in complete disbelief.

Adelaide managed to reel in her laughter enough to point out, “Now don’t get all sore. The form the Guardian takes is usually more out of necessity than it is anything else. That is to say: Jennifer does not think nor see you as a dog. Though, you have to admit, the similarities are hard to ignore.”

Duke glared at her, prompting her to correct herself, “Oh c’mon! If Holly had made that joke, you’d at least smile!”

“You’re not Holly.” Duke sneered.

Hurt flashed across her face for a moment before she let it be replaced with detached bemusement, “Fair enough. Sorry. So, see what happened was—Little John came before Jennifer, as part of her being brought into my care—kind of like a canary in a coalmine, y’know? If the Guardian is comfortable, the charge will follow. Anyway. While he was here, Jennifer’s memories were being taken, or hidden from her. Some of the small things about her life from the last two years were easier to alter or hide away, but when it came to her memories of you—,”

She grinned at him, “They were stubborn. Even in her… _unconscious_ state, she fought _hardest_ to keep every memory she had of you. And something in that, in her tenacity and in how she remembered you, drove the memories into being and staying close to her. And since the Guardian is also meant to be an expression of the charge, something about Little John drew her memories to him and…that’s that. Little John has Jennifer’s memories of you incorporated into him. That’s why he likes you so much. He _remembers_ you.”

Duke went back to studying Little John. The Great Dane panted into his face and licked him again, tail sweeping against the short course carpet beneath him. Duke reached up and scratched him between his ears, earning contented grunts from the behemoth as he did.

Go figure.

Not even the dog was normal.

“What’ll happen to him? After you go and Jennifer’s made her choice?” Duke asked as he stood, Little John stood with him, still panting and looking up at him expectantly.

She shrugged, “Usually the Guardian leaves with the charge—or disappears. Their purpose is really only within these four walls—so long as I’ve been invited into the story, so long as I’m a part of it, then the Guardian exists.”

Duke looked back at Little John, suddenly fearful of losing him, “So he’d die?”

“Not in so many words. And besides, like I’ve said before, the usual rules don’t apply here—so who _knows_ what’ll happen to Little John. Maybe he’ll just turn into a normal Great Dane.”

Little John grunted as if to refute her point.

Adelaide smirked at the dog, changing her voice as if she were speaking to a child, “Of course, there’ll never be anything _normal_ about _you_ , Bud.”

Little John tilted his head back slightly, almost as if to show pride at the idea. Duke rubbed his face with his hands, “This is too fucking much.”

She nodded, “Yeah. I know. But you wanted answers. And as convoluted as they are, that’s what they are.”

Duke’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he immediately looked at Adelaide suspiciously.

Adelaide held her hands up in mock surrender, “Hey, I had nothing to do with that.”

Duke narrowed his eyes at her.

“Okay,” Adelaide conceded, shrugging with her hands still up, “so I had a little something to do with it.”

He glared at her further as his phone buzzed again.

Adelaide gestured to the back of the shop, towards the spare bathroom, “Go on. Answer your phone. Clean yourself up. Go get yourself ready for your date. You don’t have a lot of time, and you _did_ promise Jennifer that you’d be waiting for her.”

Duke studied her for a moment more before sighing and making his way to the back of the shop with Little John following after him.

He reached the stairs before he stopped and turned back. Adelaide was still standing at the counter, now having pulled out a notebook of some sort and considering something in the pages.

“Adelaide.” He said to get her attention.

She looked at him, arching an eyebrow over the rim of her glasses.

“I don’t trust you.” Duke said simply.

Adelaide didn’t react as he continued, “I don’t even think I like you.”

She sighed and crossed her arms as she turned to him, resting her hip against the counter.

“But,” he added, “thank you. For telling me all that. Even if I do think you’re fucking bonkers and that you made some of that up.”

Adelaide chuckled and nodded, “It’s a start.”

Duke studied her for another moment, as she did the same, before he turned back to the back of the shop to finally get ready for the day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HELL YEAH.  
> Sorry man it's just been a long time since I've updated and I know it so thank you thank you thank you for staying with me, life is still taking me on a weekly basely but this has helped. We are gonna be reaching the end of this story soon(ish) but I have no earthly idea when "the end" will actually be.   
> But again, thank you all so much.  
> Happy reading!

The buzzing, it turned out, were a series of slowly more aggressive texts from Holly.

All twenty of them.

It started with Holly innocently informing him that, quote, “Our girl is so nervous about this date tonight with you omg what did you say to her before we left” and finally ended with “DUKE CROCKER I KNOW YOU ARE NOT IGNORING ME RIGHT NOW.”

There were, of course, a number of other observations Holly had made over the course of the twenty texts, along with questions and one that was entirely emojis, but Duke couldn’t stop the smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth when he read the text that started it.

Jennifer was nervous.

About seeing and spending time with him.

He remembered how she had been when he had first brought her to Haven. All small smiles and looking away as she blushed thinking that he wouldn’t notice.

_“Just my way of saying thank you for letting me stay in the loft.”_

And in a few short hours, she was going to be back with him, on the Rouge and—

Shit.

The Rouge.

What state had he left it in?

He vaguely remembered some of the cleaning he’d managed to do between bouts of half-sleeping a couple of nights ago, but did that mean it was actually presentable?

Oh god and he had offered her dinner—that _he_ made.

Did he even have food? Like, _safe_ food? That hadn’t fallen prey to Darwinism? He thought back to when he had last looked into his fridge—he was pretty sure something had looked _back_ at him.

Fuck.

He had so much work to do and not a lot of time to do it in and he _still_ hadn’t managed to shower.

All he’d managed to do was get a headache.

“Oh son of a bitch.” Duke sighed as he closed the door to the bathroom behind him. It was a fairly small space, with a shower stall against the far wall, and the toilet between it and the sink, which was right by the door. Thankfully, the sink was set into a small vanity with a cupboard, and inside it were towels and a few other bathroom necessities. It was a remarkably nondescript bathroom, with subway tile and beige walls.

He tried not to be bothered by the fact that he knew what subway tiles were.

Even the shower curtain was beige. The only pop of color came from the plastic soap dispenser that had purple liquid in it. It was kept oddly clean—no signs of any makeup or even a toothbrush—as if Jennifer either didn’t use it or tended to clean up very carefully after herself so that it could be used as a bathroom for patrons of the shop. The small basket of paper towels tucked into the corner of the vanity seemed to prove the latter to be true.

But the layout of the bathroom was not what had caused his exasperated outburst. It was more in the fact that there was no way that he was going to be able to get everything that he needed to done before she came back, so there was no way that he could be there, at the shop, waiting for her like he had promised.

He rubbed his face and leaned over the vanity, mumbling, “Fuck.”

He was not looking forward to this phone call.

Duke looked down at his cell phone, clicking through his contacts until he came to Jennifer’s number. Or, well, her _old_ number, from before she had died. He hadn’t really tested it since he found her, but he had a feeling—and a few vague memories of drunkenly calling that number in the year he thought she was dead—that it didn’t work anymore.

Otherwise, he would’ve had to answer to someone by now about said drunken voicemails. And since that hadn’t happened, he decided instead to shoot a text to Holly, asking, “Can I call to talk to Jennifer?”

Over the course of the following conversation of explaining to Holly why he couldn’t call _Jennifer’s_ phone, that he hadn’t been ignoring her, as well as surviving a few rather below the belt snide comments from Holly, Duke pulled out the small bag of travel-sized toiletries that he kept in his pack. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and finally got to put on some deodorant and clean clothes by the time Holly finally assented to letting Duke call her phone in order to talk to Jennifer.

Duke leaned back against the wall opposite of the sink as he listened to the dial tone. In truth, he probably could’ve moved back out to the main floor of the shop while he talked to her—especially seeing as Adelaide was probably going to know what they talked about regardless—but Duke was still more than willing to cling to the illusion of privacy for a little while longer.

On the third ring the line came to life, “Duke?”

It was like hearing her say his name for the first time all over again. For a moment he didn’t say anything, finding that he was struck by the fact that she was still _there_ —that for the first time in a year when he dialed a number, she’d actually answer. Even though it’d only been a couple of hours since he last saw her, it felt like it’d been almost a year.

“Duke?” she asked again, concern creeping into her tone, “Hello? You there?”

“Uh, yeah,” he finally answered, coming back to himself, “Yeah I’m here, Short Stack.”

“I thought you were tired of having a go-between,” She teased on the other side of the line.

Duke smirked, “Well if _someone_ had held up their end of a certain bargain involving a family dinner, then there wouldn’t _be_ a go-between.”

There was a pause; Duke could practically see her scrunching her nose, before she conceded, “In my defense there were…other _circumstances_ that got in the way.”

He sighed, despite himself, “There always are.”

“Is that what this is about?” she asked on the other end, trying to keep her anxiety from the question but it was clear, “Are you…I mean, did something come up?”

Duke shook his head though he knew she couldn’t see, “No, no, no, that’s not—,”

“Because, I mean, I understand if something did—come up, I mean—I mean, you _are_ a _business_ _man_ after all and—,”

“Jennifer.” He interrupted, “ _Nothing_ is pulling me away from you, remember?”

He heard her sigh on the other side of the line, and knew that she’d pulled her lips into her mouth and closed her eyes to try to get a grip on herself.

Then, apparently coming back to herself, she finally asked, “But?”

Duke sighed, “Right. _But_ I…I won’t be here when you get back. I’ll, uh, have to pick you up.”

“This wouldn’t have _anything_ to do with my cousin, would it?” She asked suspiciously, “You two _swore_ you’d play nice and I know she can be really difficult and everything’s been…well, it’s been shitty, but—!”

“No, it’s not your cousin.” Duke smirked, “She and I have actually reached an _…understanding_ , of sorts, since you’ve been gone.”

“I don’t know if I like the sounds of that.”

“I don’t know if I like it _at all_.” Duke agreed, “But it’s…it’s a start.”

“Hm.” She hummed back, “So if it’s not my cousin, then what’s the problem, Sailor?”

“I am.” He answered before he thought about it. Once he heard himself he quickly added over her giggling, “I mean—my _place_ is the problem. It’s sort of been subject to, uh, ‘single man’ living so it’s…it’s not pretty.”

She kept laughing over the line at him, as he added, “Look, I just don’t want that to be what you come ho—what you come ba—I don’t want that to be your _first impression_ of my boat.”

There was an awkward pause once he finished—Jennifer’s laughter had died as she caught the two false starts he’d had about how this wasn’t, technically, her first time going to the Rouge, bringing back her continued “fractured” sense of things when it came to Duke and the part of her life that she was only just starting to pull back to herself.

Neither of them were sure what to say.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to bring back the earlier levity of their conversation, “Besides I think most of the stuff in my fridge is gonna put up a fight before I can get it to cooperate enough to be cooked—and I couldn’t live with myself if I managed to give you food poisoning.”

“Ick.” Jennifer mumbled on the other side of the line, her voice lightening as she continued, asking, “So what you’re saying is…?”

“That I need to run some errands.”

“But…?” She prompted, drawing the word out as she did.

“I will be here to pick you up.” Duke finished for her again, smirking.

There was another pause, and he could see her tilting her head like she did when she’s expecting something more from a situation. Or a person.

_“I just played poker.”_

“At six.” He added.

He heard her let out a sharp breath on the other side of the line—a smile, he hoped—but added, to be sure, “ _Sharp_. Six o’clock _sharp_.”

She laughed out right then, “Duke Crocker, are you _nervous_?”

Duke couldn’t help himself from chuckling back, “Do I _sound_ nervous?”

“As nervous as my first-date-ever was when he met my father. And that kid about passed out before he even made it through my front door.” Jennifer continued laughing over the phone.

After a brief pause, she added, cautiously, “You know we _have_ done this before.”

“Oh _I_ know that,” Duke grinned, “and it seems like _you’re_ starting to know that too.”

Little John scratched and whined on the other side of the door as Duke asked, “Should I get my hopes up, or am I reading too much into this?”

“I think it’s safe for you to get your hopes up—does, uh,” her voice dropped to a rough whisper, “‘beard burn’ sound familiar?”

Duke barked out a laugh at that, remembering plenty of instances of her “complaining” about beard burn to him, before stammering, “Uh y-yeah, yeah that sounds, uh, a _little_ familiar. But I could use a—,”

“Oh god please don’t ask for a refresher or clarification,” Jennifer cut him off, laughing nervously, “Holly’s already testing my ‘puritan’ sensibilities, as she calls them.”

“Now I wouldn’t say they’re _‘puritan’_ ,” Duke commented as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder to start gathering his things more easily into his pack, “You always struck me as more ‘Victorian’ than anything else—y’know, high collars, ankles, Imperialism, all that.”

“Ah yes, that just screams ‘me’.” She conceded, a laugh still lightening her voice, though she still sounded nervous.

“But what’s Holly doing to test you? And how can I get in on it?”

“God that’s _all_ I need.” She laughed, then paused, “Uh. Well…”

Then, from in the distance on Jennifer’s side of the call, and as if she’d just been waiting for her opportunity, “Jen? They didn’t have the red one in lace but there’s one with frills that I _really_ think—,”

“Holly not _now_.” Jennifer said quickly and anxiously.

“Lace?” Duke asked, smirking and trying so very hard not to let his imagination get away from him.

“It’s not—,” Jennifer tried to explain to him or to distract him before Holly added, “And baby girl did you make a decision about the body glitter? I mean, I know you swore never again after that last time but I _still_ think that—,”

“Holly!” Jennifer gasped, her voice jumping in octave and volume.

“What about body glitter?” Duke asked, not missing Holly’s laughter.

“Duke doesn’t need to _know_ about the body glitter—for either instance,” Jennifer mumbled, sounding distant from the phone, making him think that she’d moved the phone at least at arms length away from her or that she’d tried and failed to mute the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Duke _absolutely_ needs to know about the body glitter.” Duke said loudly into the phone, in a useless attempt to be heard by the two other parties at the other end of the line.

After a minute or so more of just barely catching what Jennifer and Holly were saying to each other, Jennifer finally came back on the line, “There’s no chance that you didn’t hear any of that, is there?”

Duke sighed, exaggeratedly exasperated, “Jennifer I said I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Oh God damn it.” She lamented.

Duke laughed again, “Promise to tell me all about the body glitter at dinner?”

There was a beat of a pause before she bargained, “Only if you keep your promise of telling me about Haven.”

“Deal.”

“Besides,” she started slowly, carefully, “I’ll have to show you what I bought.”

Duke sputtered for a second, knowing exactly what she meant, before conceding, “Well I always did like you in lace.”

“And if I go with something _else_?” She offered, sounding confident.

“You never cease to amaze me, Short Stack.” Duke replied amicably.

“Fair enough,” she chuckled back, “So then I’ll see you at six?”

“Sharp.” Duke added pointedly.

She let out a huff of a laugh, “Right. Okay. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah. And, uh, Jen?” he added quickly before she could hang up.

“Yeah?”

“Just…” he started then stopped himself for a moment, considering if it was worth saying.

“Duke?” She asked nervously.

He sighed, “Be safe. Please.”

There was another pause, one that crept on until Duke was nervous that she’d hung up on him, “Jennifer? Short Stack? You still there?”

“Y-yeah.” She finally answered, sounding distracted, “I’m still here. I will, Duke. Be safe, that is. You do the same, okay?”

“Of course.” Duke tried to smile and lighten the mood that had shifted into something more ominous, “I was in the boy scouts, remember?”

She laughed slightly at that, but still sounded distracted, “Right. Okay.”

“Bye, Jen.”

“Bye, Duke.”

Duke pocketed his cell phone and looked himself over in the mirror a final time. It wasn’t an incredible improvement from yesterday per se, but there was better color to his face now, and the dark circles around his eyes were slightly improved as well.

He still looked haggard, and could probably benefit from a shower if he ended up having time for it, but compared to how he was even two days ago, this was a marked improvement. He ran his hand through his hair before grabbing his pack and throwing it over his shoulder as he opened the bathroom door.

Little John practically pounced on Duke once he saw him, but luckily Duke was a bit more prepared for it than he was last time. He braced himself for it and then managed to push the dog, gently, down to dissuade him.

“Easy, bud,” Duke soothed him, scratching Little John’s back as they walked back towards the front of the shop.

He could distantly hear Adelaide talking to someone—a friend, if he could gauge anything from the general tone of both parties—though he didn’t recognize the voice. It had an accent that seemed to run the gamut from English to Australian to Southern then back again, never settling on just one for long enough to have a distinctive marker. As he got closer, the conversation seemed to wrap up. He came around the last bookcase that enclosed the front of the shop, half expecting to see another person, only to see Adelaide, still at the counter, and still pouring over a leather-bound notebook. No sign of another person, or even a phone near her to suggest that she’d been in contact with another person.

“Who were you talking to?” Duke asked, drawing Adelaide’s attention to him as he walked to stand opposite her at the counter.

Adelaide looked up at him briefly before going back to studying the notebook, shrugging and flipping the page, “Technically? No one.”

Duke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “For fuck’s _sake_ , Adelaide…”

She smirked at the pages in front of her. Duke followed her gaze towards the notebook and could see there was some sort of writing within it but the pages were yellowed and curling at the edges. The ink on the pages was faded to the point of being essentially invisible but for the just-barely-there indentations on the pages. Duke glanced at Adelaide again, confused as to how she could be looking at the pages with so much focus when he couldn’t even figure out if it was actually in English.

Adelaide shrugged absently, still smirking, “If you _must_ know, it was just a… _consultant_ for the shop.”

Duke rolled his eyes before closing them for a moment, and debated for a moment if it was even worth asking before asking anyway, “And _what_ , exactly, does a book shop _need_ with a consultant?”

Adelaide drew her lips into her mouth so it formed a line, bracing both her hands against the counter to lean on them as she looked at him. She clicked her tongue lightly; a curl of a smile starting at the corners of her lips, and asked, “Do you _really_ wanna know?”

Duke sighed, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders, “No. No I don’t.”

She nodded once, smirking briefly before focusing on the notebook again, a crease appearing between her eyebrows as she did. He couldn’t tell if it was from confusion, concern, or just from thinking, but as she studied the pages she said, practically under her breath, “I thought not.”

Duke set his pack on the counter, though Adelaide did not look back up from the notebook. There was a moment of silence that pressed down on him that he was surprised that Adelaide didn’t seem to notice. He looked absently around the shop, trying to find something to say to break the silence again so he could get the conversation to move in the direction he wanted. It was then that he realized that he hadn’t seen Brielle at all that day, and that something about it seemed odd to him.

“Where’s Brielle?” He asked, “Or is she still mad at you?”

Adelaide shook her head, still staring at the notebook and flipping pages as she seemed to look for _something_. A tension sprung up at the mentioning of her daughter that she kept from her voice, but Duke picked up on it.

“No she’s not mad at me anymore.” Adelaide clarified, her hand poised at the corner of another page as she skimmed the faded page it belonged to, “She’s just in the basement organizing some of the new inventory we got this week for me.”

Duke gave her an incredulous look, “You left a _six year old_ to organize?”

Adelaide shrugged, adding, again, under her breath in distraction, “She’s mature for her age.”

Duke continued to look at her like she was making many poor life decisions, but didn’t push the subject. He did, however, suddenly feel the need to consider just what, exactly, all of Adelaide’s explanation for herself could mean for the little girl.

_It’s in the eyes_ , she had said a few times during her rambling, in particular when she’d described her father and how she’d inherited this shop from him. Brielle was only a child and to have all _this_ swirling in her head…

“About Brielle…” he started before trailing off, unsure of how he wanted to form his question, or phrase his advice; he wasn’t sure which direction he wanted to go.

“What about her?” Adelaide asked, her posture tensing again and her face paling slightly, though her tone remained nonchalant as she flipped the page quickly, making him worry that the page would rip. She did it again, barely having time to read either of the pages.

“Just…uh,” he tried again, as she flipped another page violently, “well…with what _you_ are, or claim to be, or whatever—it just seems like a whole lot for a child—I’m just trying to understand what that means for—,”

“Duke.” Adelaide said firmly, snapping the book shut. The sound was sudden, violent, and, while Duke was sure it was just his imagination, sounded almost like thunder.

Duke held his tongue, waiting for her to continue.

She leveled her gaze at him—no anger, no disappointment, just a cold stare, though there may have been…was that _fear_? “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, but—,” he tried to push, feeling like this was _definitely_ something to worry about. Adelaide claiming to be what she was was one thing, but if there was even a grain of truth to it—Brielle was just a _child_. She didn’t deserve to be thrown into all this, whatever it was, and how could Adelaide be fine with her being anywhere _near_ it? He hadn’t spent all that much time getting to know Brielle—and really, how could he have, given everything that had happened in the very brief time he’d been there?—but that did not stop the innate urge within him to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves from flaring up when he considered all the dangerous possibilities of being in this shop with Adelaide. _Especially_ as her only child or as what they could both be.

If _he_ had a daughter—

_Her name is Jean._

The thought made his stomach flip.

She held her hand up as if to physically cut him off, “No. Don’t. Worry. About it. Brielle is…is _fine_. We’re _fine_. She’s a perfectly happy, _normal_ six-year-old little girl. Please. Just. Let her have that. Let…let _me_ have that.”

Duke eyed her for a moment before letting out a sharp breath and nodding. Adelaide was right. Whatever Brielle did or didn’t know about what her mother was and that, by extension, _she_ was, wasn’t for him to impose himself on.

But there was one thing that he could say something about.

“Look.” He said carefully, confidentially, “I know a thing or two about family secrets coming back to haunt the next generation.”

They studied each other for a long moment, and Duke was starting to see more and more clearly the fear in Adelaide’s eyes. It was subtle, and she was very, very well practiced at hiding it, but it was there. Duke furrowed his brow and started to say something.

Adelaide tsked and looked away first. She didn’t say anything to refute him, either, and that said more than enough to him.

He debated, briefly, asking her what was _really_ wrong.

She was worried about something, something to do with Brielle and him and Jennifer and whatever this situation was that they were all in. And if were a betting man—or, well, a more _reckless_ betting man—he’d place a lot of money on the fact that whomever she had been talking to before he walked in had something to do with it all, too.

But once again, something told him that asking about it was exactly what he _shouldn’t_ do.

There was a continued silence until she looked him over once, finally seeming to register his pack on the counter. She straightened, sighing, and asked, “You headed out?”

Duke nodded, welcoming the change of subject, “As you so _helpfully_ pointed out, I’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m going to be ready for my date with Jennifer tonight. So I’d better get going.”

Adelaide nodded and looked back down at the cover of her notebook, tracing the design on it absently with her finger, though Duke made no motion to leave just yet. Duke glanced again at the notebook, and was struck by how familiar the image etched into it looked, though it was very faded. He also couldn’t place exactly _where_ he’d seen it.

“I’ll be picking her up at six o’clock.” He continued, sounding like he was asking Jennifer’s parents to take her on a date, as he managed to look away from the book to address her again. As Adelaide continued to be unmoved by what he was saying and continued to look at the cover of the book, he finally said bluntly, “You have between when she and Holly come back and then to explain to her the situation and what you are.”

At this, she finally looked up to glare at him. Whatever she had been feeling before, whatever fear or despondence that had colored how they’d interacted up to this point, immediately faded as she spat back, “You don’t get to give me a fucking _timeline_ for this.”

Duke smirked, feeling all too smug now and more than willing to let her know it as he crossed his arms, “Why not? You’ve said it yourself; the usual rules don’t apply here.”

Anger flashed in her green eyes for a moment before she reeled it in enough to sneer, through gritted teeth, “I do not take _orders_ from you. Or _any_ one.”

Duke snarled right back, “But you _did_.”

Adelaide clenched her jaw.

“You wanted time to explain yourself to her.” Duke continued, unbothered, “Now you’re gonna have it.”

“You’ll go to any lengths to keep from lying to her, won’t you?” She sneered, crouching to stash the notebook away on one of the shelves under it. He caught a flash of the cover again. The light hit it in just the right way for him to get a better look at the design. It looked like a tree, something he saw before.

“Only because you haven’t.” Duke shot back.

There was a shift in the air then. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the counter tightly, and a terrible stillness that made Duke uneasy to the point of regretting that he’d stashed the gun back into his pack and out of his immediate reach.

Then, slowly, Adelaide climbed back to her feet, glaring at Duke all the while, until she said grimly, “You have _no_ idea how hard this is going to be.”

“Right,” Duke drawled sarcastically, “Because as we both know, I’ve _never_ done _anything_ difficult before in my life.”

Adelaide rolled her eyes, a brief enough break in her anger for some remorse to come through before she sighed, “That’s not what I—,”

“I know what you meant,” Duke interrupted flatly, “And I know that secrets have a terrible habit of getting people killed. And if even _half_ of your weird ass ‘theories’ end up being true, then I think this secret has lasted long enough.”

Adelaide glared at him for a moment longer, then squeezed her eyes closed and let out a slow breath.

“You’re right.” she all but whispered, absently rubbing her forehead with her right hand, “You’re right and this is— _fuck_.”

In the following silence, she said, mostly to herself, as she looked just to her right, “This is gonna hurt.”

He didn’t _want_ to feel bad for her; didn’t want to feel any sort of empathy for her at all—and yet…

Duke pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, at odds with himself on his next response, before gesturing absently, “Look if…I don’t know…if you want me to like… _stay_ or—,”

Adelaide shook her head, not looking at him, as she said more clearly, “No. No, that won’t be necessary. I, uh…I can do it. She’ll…I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her everything. I swear.”

“Thank you for offering though.” She offered him a small smile.

Duke just shrugged as she continued, “You should get going. I’m sure there’s a lot you need to get done before you come back to pick her up.”

Duke pointed at her as he grabbed his pack from the counter and turned to head towards the front door. He wagged his finger at her, allowing himself a smirk back, “That I do.”

Little John was sitting patiently by the door, as if he expected to go with him. Duke gave him a confused look at first before frowning at him, “No, Little John, you stay here.”

Little John huffed out a whine at him. Duke glanced at Adelaide for help, as Little John pawed him in the stomach.

Adelaide let out huff of a laugh before clicking her tongue for Little John to go for her. Little John hesitated, still looking at Duke.

Duke crouched down to be on the dog’s level as he scratched his chest, “I’ll be back later big guy; maybe you can talk Jennifer into bringing you along tonight, huh?”

Little John huffed again but licked his face in compliance before going to sit next to Adelaide. Adelaide scratched his head when he was within arms reach. Little John wagged his tail slowly—not nearly as enthusiastically as Duke had seen before, but it was still a tail wag nonetheless.

Duke waved over his shoulder as he pushed the door open to get in his car. As he left, he heard Adelaide mumble to Little John, “Besides, Bud, if this goes as well as I think it will, you and Jen might end up spending a long time on the Rouge before you know it.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lol

“Run me through it again,” Holly was saying, turning the radio off as they drove back to Adelaide’s.

Jennifer fidgeted with her hair in the mirror of the visor for the third time in their ten minute car ride.

“Stop touching your hair!” Holly chastised, trying to smack Jennifer’s hands away from her face as she drove.

“Stop telling me what to do and focus on the road!” Jennifer retorted, smacking her friend’s hands away.

Holly put both her hands on the wheel and pointed out, “You’ve got plenty of time to get all your primping and prepping done, _and_ to go over what you’re going to say to your cousin _as well as_ the plan for you to text me over the course of the date.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes, “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

Holly shrugged, “Not as a reflection on Duke, no, but more to do with your weird door thing—I think we can both agree that something is definitely up with that and that you can ease my mind somewhat by just letting me know that you are still on this plane of existence.”

Jennifer knew Holly meant the last part as a joke but she just sighed back, “That’s true.”

“And besides,” Holly grinned, trying to joke with her again, as she rounded the bookstore to the small parking lot behind it, “I’m gonna need updates on what happens during your date.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes, “Honestly Holly, we’re not twenty anymore—I’m not gonna be texting you everything that happens. And I’m _definitely_ not gonna text you if Duke and I end up having sex.”

“You are _absolutely_ going to text me if that happens.” Holly replied firmly.

“Oh would you grow up!” Jennifer laughed.

“Absolutely not.” Holly turn the car off and turned to her, smirking, “Girl I’m married, my sex life is pretty much a guarantee—y’know, circumstances allowing—you on the other hand, haven’t gotten laid since the _start_ of the Obama administration.”

“That is an unnecessary exaggeration.” Jennifer grumbled, wringing her hands together and looking at the back door of the shop as if it were a beast that she was going to climb into the same cage as.

Gently, but with plenty of strength, Holly said again, “Run me through it one more time.”

Jennifer ran her fingers through her hair and sighed, entwining her fingers at the back of her neck, “Okay.”

She took another deep breath before gesturing absently in front of her, “Okay. So. I go inside and I…I get myself together—,”

Holly nodded.

“And then I go to Adelaide and I…I tell her that I’m tired of feeling like I have none of the pieces to understand my own life, and that she seems to have them all and…and then I demand that she talks to me and tell me the truth about what’s going on—or else I’ll have to do it on my own.”

Jennifer didn’t realize her hands were shaking slightly until Holly reached over and took one of them in her own. She looked at Holly in confusion and she smiled softly back at her, “Not on your own, Jen. I’ll be here the whole time.”

She nodded, squeezing Holly’s hand briefly, before she let out a sharp breath and started to climb out of the car, mumbling, “Alright let’s get this over with.”

Holly followed her out of the car, popping the trunk as she did. Jennifer placed a hand on the lid of the trunk, leaning heavily on it as she surveyed the bags there.

She sighed, “I bought way too much stuff.”

Holly shook her head, “Nah; you had fun, just like Adelaide said to do.”

Jennifer started grabbing what was hers as Holly did the same, shaking her head at Holly’s comment.

“Do you…do you really think one of those dresses is gonna—?” Jennifer started to ask nervously as she peered indirectly into the bags.

“You’ll be a knockout in whichever you go with,” Holly grinned back, closing the trunk with her elbow as she fell into step next to her as they walked to the back door. It was the delivery entrance, where most of the third parties that dropped off their books for the shop did just that, and where any new shipments that had arrived were brought through on their way down to the basement of the shop. Jennifer stopped at the threshold, still looking at the door with an apprehensive mix of distrust and fear.

Holly stood next to her, looking from it to her and back again. She laughed nervously, “I’d say something about it just being a door, but—,”

“No such thing as that anymore, it seems.” Jennifer replied, not taking her eyes off the door.

She took a deep breath, looking within herself for a moment to be sure that she didn’t feel the same draw as she had with the door earlier that day, that there wasn’t something pulling her or making her do anything she didn’t want to do. She felt none of it, and that eased some of her fear.

It was just a door.

And the fact that Holly could see it as well only strengthened that belief.

She grabbed the knob and opened the door, and was immediately greeted by Little John dancing around her in excitement and jumping slightly in place. Jennifer smiled, speaking softly to him, and scratched him as best she could with the bags in her arms; the fact that he refused to stay in place didn’t help either.

There was no greeting from Adelaide, wherever she was in the shop, nor from Brielle, but Jennifer didn’t mind—it just meant that she had more time to prepare herself for the coming conversation. She led Holly to her room, neither of them saying anything, both of them feeling an unspoken fear that any sudden noise—in particular that of voices—would shatter the momentary bubble of everything still being alright. It reminded Jennifer of how they’d sneak back into the other’s homes after being out later than they’d originally planned and their parents were asleep. They slipped into her room quickly, with Jennifer closing the door behind them as quietly as possible.

Holly threw her bags and coat on Jennifer’s bed, “Well that was tense.”

Jennifer huffed out a laugh as she leaned against the now closed door and nodded. Little John settled happily on the bed, flopping to his side as some of Holly’s bags fell onto him. Holly giggled at him as Jennifer came to stand by her and drop her own bags on the bed.

Holly started digging through the bags as Jennifer shed her blazer and shoes, “Okay, you pull my outfit together, I’m gonna grab a shower.”

Holly nodded, “Good call—you were starting to smell funny.”

Jennifer made a face at her in response, earning a laugh out of Holly before she turned and grabbed her extra tub of toiletries, for when she chose to use the downstairs bathroom instead of the one in the loft upstairs, from the top shelf of her tiny closet.  Everything was still tense as Jennifer made her way to the bathroom, and she could almost hear Adelaide speaking to someone further in the shop. Her tone was…concerning. It wasn’t fearful, or angry, it wasn’t sad or jovial, it was…something Jennifer hadn’t from Adelaide before. She pushed it to the back of her mind for the moment, opting to just focus on preparing for her date and her eventual conversation with Adelaide. Jennifer tried to relax in the shower, tried to treat it like any other date preparation, but there was no relaxing, no pretending that this was normal. She tried to let herself think about the memory that’d played out towards the end of her conversation with Duke.

Wreckage and smoldering ash, Duke insisting that the best way for her to help was to dig through the vaults at something called “The Herald,” a parting joke and kiss, and Duke’s thumb on her elbow.

_“Be safe.”_

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror after she stepped out of the shower, and grabbed one of the towels from under the vanity to dry off. She wrapped herself in the towel after drying herself off as best she could, and grabbed her shed clothes from the floor. She peeked out the door, checking to be sure that Adelaide wasn’t just weirdly standing there as if she were waiting for her. Confident that the coast was clear, Jennifer slipped out of the bathroom towards her room. Adelaide was still talking to someone—Brielle it sounded like, but she sounded confused.

Jennifer snuck back into her room and turned to look at Holly, shaking her head, “It’s almost ulcer-inducing how tense it is out there.”

“Did we do something?” Holly asked, tossing a dress to the side to regard Jennifer.

Jennifer shook her head, causing stray droplets to fall on her shoulders as she did, “I don’t think it’s us—something’s…changed.”

Holly arched an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue but all Jennifer could do was shake her head, unable to explain her feeling. There was just something in the air, almost in the entire composition of the shop that just seemed fundamentally _different_ , and Jennifer didn’t know how to even begin to explain it to Holly.

Jennifer stood at the foot of the bed, picking up a sundress that she’d bought to look it over as she asked, “So. Have you planned out my entire outfit for the night?”

“I have!” Holly grinned, proud of herself. She reached out to hold up a floor length red dress, with a lace neckline and overlay. It was a stunning, sleeveless dress that Jennifer had convinced herself that she’d need for something someday. But as she looked at it now, she knew this was not that something.

And she certainly didn’t do a good job of hiding it, as Holly’s smile slowly faded and she asked, “What?”

Jennifer chewed the corner of her lip nervously, “Well nothing but…”

That eyebrow raised again in question, “But?”

Jennifer bobbed her head from side to side, trying to find the right words, “It’s just that…we’re going to his place for dinner.”

“Right?”

“And that’s really kind of…intimate. Casual.”

Holly’s eyebrow stayed raised as Jennifer kept dancing around what she wanted to say before she finally just said, “Spit it out Jen.”

“It’s too fancy.” Jennifer finally managed to get out.

“Too fancy.” Holly repeated flatly.

Jennifer nodded, “I mean, I love this dress—of course I do, otherwise I never would’ve bought it—but for something like this I think it’s way too much. If we were going to a high-end restaurant or out somewhere really fancy and expensive then sure, this would be _the_ dress to wear. But for this…”

Holly back at the dress considering what Jennifer was saying, before pointing out, “But I thought you wanted to wear red?”

A nervous blush crept up into Jennifer’s cheeks as she grabbed the smallest bag and gestured with it, “Well, that’s sort of what this is for.”

Holly smirked at that and finally nodded, “Okay. Alright, I get what you’re saying. So what were _you_ thinking?”

Jennifer looked at the clothes strewn about her bed and finally grabbed a simple, knee-length black dress with keyhole openings on the front and back. It was nondescript but still elegant, and casual while still having the promise of being dressed up; “What about this one?”

Holly regarded it, before smiling, “I like it. Do you have some red accessories to put with it?”

Jennifer thought for a moment before a memory came up—a first date from before. They were on the deck of the Gull, he was dressed casually and she was wearing a black dress with a red wrap and red flowers.

_“And what are we toasting to?”_

_“To beginnings.”_

She furrowed her brow and knelt to open her trunk and started to root through it. Finally, she pulled out a red shrug with a black tassel fringe, as well as three fabric flowers in differing size and a pair of red heels with a t-strap. She laid them out on her bed and stared at them with Holly.

Holly draped the shrug over the dress and smiled, “Oh I like that. That’s gonna look really good.”

Jennifer continued to stare at the items in confusion, even as Holly started telling her to get dressed and that she’d do her hair and makeup. Jennifer did those things on autopilot, lost in her thoughts on the items she’d pulled out. Just having them in her possession would indicate that everything she had with her here, had been with her when she had been with Duke, but she has no memory of purchasing those items, or of transporting them.

How did they get here? How did _she_ get here?  How had she died? Who had brought her back? How had she ended up in Adelaide’s care? _Why_ was she put in Adelaide’s care?

As Holly continued to get her ready for her date, Jennifer slowly became more impatient to get out to the main floor of the shop to talk to Adelaide. She checked the time on her phone, it was going on five o’clock and Jennifer had no idea if that would be enough time for her to get satisfactory answers before Duke got there. Shortly after her talk with him via Holly’s phone, Holly had given her Duke’s number and she finally managed to work up the courage to text him as Holly pinned the flowers in her hair. Just to make sure they were on time and that nothing had changed.

Duke texted back immediately in the affirmative and with a winky face that made Jennifer roll her eyes and smile.

Holly smiled at her, “Done!”

Jennifer stood from the bed and looked at herself in the mirror. Holly had done a wonderful job—Jennifer’s hair was done in two twist braids on either side of her head that met in the back, where Holly had arranged the flowers so that the smallest was highest up on her head, and the largest was at the base of her head where the end of the two braids met. Holly had done her eyes in a bronze eye shadow that then became black at the corners of her eyes, making her eyes seem a shade lighter than they were. Holly had done her lips with a red lipstick that somehow matched her shawl perfectly.

“Damn.” Jennifer mumbled, turning to look at her back.

Holly laughed, “I missed my calling as a makeup artist.”

Jennifer smiled and reached out to squeeze her hand, “Thank you, Holly.”

She patted the back of her hand, “Any time, baby girl.”

Jennifer looked at the door itself now, rolling her shoulders and straightening her back, and tried to prepare herself for the conversation that waited for her on the other side of the door.

Holly turned her hand in Jennifer’s so that their fingers entwined and looked at their reflection in the mirror on the door, “You ready for this?”

Jennifer shook her head, “No. Let’s go.”


End file.
